


A Lesson in Patience: Book 6

by Shaymed



Series: A Lesson in Patience [6]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 140,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: Something strange is happening with the world. When Khadgar is asked to provide heroes for a deadly, top-secret mission, he goes to the dysfunctional but effective quartet we've all come to love.
Series: A Lesson in Patience [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1034279
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue: The Last Blood Knight

The battle was long since over. No swords clanged together, echoing from the vaulted ceilings; shouts weren’t ringing out. There were no more cries of death as another body fell, broken and lifeless, to the floor. The champions of Azeroth had long since looted the place, taking what was valuable and dropping the rest on the floor to be abandoned and eroded by time. All that was left was silence. Deafening, mind-wrenching silence. 

Then, down the hall before Kael’thas’s chamber, in among the bodies festering in their own pooled blood, a glowing green eye slowly opened. It blinked and searched about, but was met only with the death she’d been breathing in. 

_Someone has to be alive,_ she thought. _I can’t be the only one._ “Help!” she cried weakly. “Is anyone there?” Even her voice didn’t seem to echo in the stifling quiet. 

She pushed the bodies from herself, crying out at the pain it brought to her wounds. Once she was free, she waited, panting and catching her breath. With what little energy she had, she pressed her palm over the wound across her torso, where a great axe had pierced straight through her armor to cut open her flesh and shatter her sternum. Her low energy provided only enough to repair the bones and stop the bleeding, but not close the wound. 

She first went to Kael’thas’s chamber, searching in amongst the corpses for him. Her gaze raised to the gaping wound in the ceiling, from which she beheld the night stars blinking in the darkness. 

“My prince,” she whispered. “Oh, gods.”

She stumbled through the Keep, checking bodies as she went. 

_I can’t be the only…_

All were dead. Even the dragonhawks and their hatchlings. She ran to the entry hall, then threw herself to the ground outside where she screamed up at the black sky. 

_Why not me, too?_ she thought as she cried for her people and her comrades. _Why leave me behind?_

She hobbled to the edge of the balcony overlooking the stars and stared out at the abyss of space unfolding beneath her. 

_It would be so easy…_

She stepped forward, her toes on the edge of the balcony, and closed her eyes. Wind which shouldn’t be there fluttered through her hair and when she looked, she gasped. “Stormbreaker.”

The dragonhawk warbled and whined, then faltered in his flight. His wing had been cut and now seeped blood across it. 

“Stormbreaker!” The knight urged the creature to the walkway, where he laid down. She used her little energy to stop the bleeding. Weak as she was, she could only do that—stitching the wound would have to wait. “My darling. How did you survive?”

The creature warbled and shoved his snout into her hands. 

They stayed sitting that way for a long while, unaware of the passage of time as she slowly healed the two of them just a little at a time. 

“We’re going to have scars, my friend.”

When they were finally fit to move, they went inside. Her stomach growled and so she made her way to the kitchens. She found bread, wine, and meat rashers, then returned to the front. 

“All right, boy, we don’t have much mea— _No!_ ” She dropped her food; the wine bottle shattered and the bread soaked it up until it was a red mush. 

The blood knight, however, was sick to her stomach for another reason. Stormbreaker, while waiting for his mistress, had cannibalized several hatchling corpses—she could not tell how many, just that there were wings and tails snapped off by his sharp beak. Now, though, he was picking at an astromancer; he’d already devoured one of her legs. The dragonhawk pulled at her other leg and in one snap and a sickening crunch of bone, severed the limb and swallowed it whole. The woman gagged, then whistled shrill. He flew to her and purred contentedly. 

“I know. You’re hungry. But…you can’t eat them, okay? Those are my friends.” She gasped as tears dripped from her eyes. She fell to her knees, clasping both hands over her mouth to scream in angry sorrow as it really began to set in that she was alone. 

When she finally calmed down and wiped her eyes, Stormbreaker was halfway through the dead woman’s torso. She screamed at him to stop and he went to her, curiously tilting his head. The knight led him back outside and climbed onto his back—a task made difficult without a saddle. She flew to each of the surrounding satellites, leaving him outside as she checked for any living soul. When she reached the Botanica she stopped to eat a fruit from one of the stations. She decided it would be a good place to make her home with its abundant supply of edible vegetation. 

Something stirred in the corner and she quickly grabbed the sword from a nearby corpse. “Show yourself!”

With small, slithering, creaking steps a lasher circled from a hiding spot in a dark corner behind one of the planters. The knight laughed and lowered the weapon as it approached, vines reaching out. It was so small, little older than a seedling. She lifted it into her arms and it wrapped frightened vines behind her neck. 

“There, there, plant. All the bad people are gone. I’ve got you.”

She spent the following days dragging corpses to the balcony and tossing them into the nether below. Stormbreaker stared on with curiosity as she told him no every time one passed him. The next day she flew to the Mechanar and did the same. Then the Arcatraz. By the time she returned to the Keep the smell of death was more pungent. It clung in the air, humid and sickly. The scent of rotting flesh hit her in the doorway, causing her to retch. She took a cloth rubbed with mint oils and wrapped it over her face, then got to work. 

She first went into the quarters hall, her heart pounding, knowing who she would find, though hoping beyond hope that maybe, somehow, just this one other person had survived and was still hiding. The room she went into was familiar--it was hers, after all. Two beds were on either side and over the top of her own was the still figure. Her heart clenched and tears immediately poured down her cheeks. The woman on the bed was laying with eyes clenched shut and lips purple, her hands were wrapped tightly around a pendant that hung on a golden chain around her neck. Her veins spidered green across her ivory skin; the blood knight found the cause after a short inspection. She’d been stabbed in the back with a poisoned blade.

“Zatrine,” she said on a soft whimper. “Why you?” She gasped for air and pulled the woman’s body into her arms. 

When she had no more tears to cry, she took the pendant from around Zatrine’s neck and clasped it around her own. After an agonizing minute of thought, she rearranged the body on the bed onto her back, hands over her chest, so she simply looked like she might be sleeping. The knight brushed the other woman’s creamy locks out of her face and took a stuttering breath. Finally she left the room, shutting and locking it behind her to remain as a tomb for her dearest friend. With a heavy heart she began clearing the bodies of the Keep.

She was only halfway through when the length of her task made itself apparent. She gripped a man’s arms and pulled to drag him through the hallway. His boot caught on a lantern’s post and, due to her momentum, caused her to fall backward, ripping his arms from the sockets as the decaying flesh gave way. The blood knight dropped his separated limbs and skittered backward, though her stomach had hardened by then. She took a tapestry from a room and laid it out, then carefully loaded several bodies onto it. 

“I should have thought of this sooner. Damn.”

Able to haul five at a time, her task completed much faster. As she’d done with the other satellites, she stopped to look around the empty, blood-stained main room, remembering how it looked with her friends filling its hallways, talking and laughing. Out on the balcony she stood with her mask off and took a deep breath, then began singing a sin’dorei song of mourning.

Over the next month she worked at cleaning the Botanica of all the blood and proof of the death which had occurred inside. She found a room which she made her own and put a shallow pot of soil in one corner for the lasher to sleep on. 

It was months before she saw another living being. They came in through the main entrance and began collecting items of value. 

“Hey!” she shouted. 

“I thought all the blood knights were dead,” one of them said. 

She strode forward. “That’s mine. This is all mine.” She ripped an item from one of their hands.

He immediately retaliated, slashing up her face with a poisoned blade, cutting her left eyebrow in half—the long strands of it fell to the ground at her feet. After a moment to process what had happened, she backed away, grabbing a weapon from the wall. The polearm slashed through the air in her grasp, slitting the man’s throat. She proceeded to sweep through them, taking them out one at a time. Clearly these were simple looters with little combat experience. 

She whistled. “Stormbreaker! Dinner time.”

The remaining three took off for the exit as the dragonhawk swooped in behind her and grabbed a still dying man in his beak. She chased them to the entrance, cutting the heels of one to stop him before stabbing through the side of his neck. As the other two reached their mounts outside, she hurled her spear. It flew through the air, impaling the man through his lower back into the side of his gryphon. The creature shrieked in pain and turned to snap at the man as though it was he who was causing it such pain. The final man ducked and huddled beside his own gryphon, his hands up in surrender. 

She strode to him and pulled him up by the hair. “Tell everyone you meet that this is _my_ home and it will not be looted by any of you depraved pieces of shit. I’m not someone they want to fuck with.”

He nodded as she released him and shoved him onto his mount. She slapped the gryphon so it would take off and fly away. The others she removed the saddles, untied, and shooed from her porch. The final one was still squawking in pain, though it had torn the man’s throat open.

“I’m sorry.” The knight shoved the spear deeper into the creature, killing it.

The bodies were piled in the entry hall as she boarded the doorway closed. Stormbreaker made himself cozy on a bed of straw and picked at one of them.

“No!” She rushed forward to stop him, removed the man’s weapons, then backed away. “You could’ve hurt yourself, silly beast.” She went through to disarm all the others, then left the area for him to roost in.

Months passed. Then years. Every so often someone would come to her door, break the boards, and either meet Stormbreaker or make it inside long enough to meet their end at her hands. They all had the same story: they were there to either prove the bogeyman of Tempest Keep was just a ghost story to scare off looters, or to kill the last blood knight for all the lives she’d taken. Scars accumulated on her face and arms from the battles she’d had to fight with no time to put on her armor. 

Every few months if one of the trespassers was particularly attractive, she would seduce them. If they pleased her she let them live, if not then they died and became Stormbreaker’s next meal. 

Only one of them got the drop on her. This man was an elf with beautiful features. She kept him for several days, and he showed no signs of wanting to kill her. Then one night as she was atop him, he withdrew a dagger. She was just fast enough to steer the weapon away from her chest. It stabbed into her side and she hissed and punched him hard enough to break his nose, then skittered across the bed. He got up on his knees and made his way to her, lips pursed in anger. Vines stretched up and wrapped around his neck from behind. They twisted and circled and squeezed tighter and tighter until the bones crackled within. His arms fell limp at his sides, though he remained upright, his eyes open and empty in a lightless, ghostly white she was all too familiar with. He was thrown to the side and the lasher, now much larger, creeped up onto the bed. 

“Plant,” she gasped. “Thank you.” The knight relaxed, laying her head back as she held to the knife still in her side. 

Plant wove its vines under and around her in an odd sort of hug. She pursed her lips and ripped the knife from her side, crying out before quickly healing the wound. Once it knew she was okay, it wrapped its vines around the dead elf and dragged his corpse through the Botanica and into the entry hall, where Stormbreaker perked and trilled. Plant made a strange squeaking back at him, then returned to his mistress’s side.

The years wore on. She learned to tie the men up and never keep them longer than a night. She fashioned her own mask from one in the armory, covering as much of her face as she could. She taught herself to blacksmith and weave to clothe and armor herself. Anything she couldn’t obtain within the Keep somewhere she would fly down to the surface and walk to Area 52 for, with a cloak around her, head covered, and nothing identifying her as a blood knight. The goblins, however, didn’t care and didn’t reveal if they knew who she was—which they did.

She loved her hair too much to cut it off, though she wanted it out of her way. She braided the sides and put the top in a leather tie, then rubbed the rest into dreadlocks. She didn’t know how long it had been, only that her hair grew longer and she had to rebraid it and dreadlock the rest to her scalp. 

Her dreadlocks were to her waist—the braids much farther—when a strange night elf came into the Botanica. Stormbreaker lifted his head from his nest in the entry hall and watched the man walk calmly by—the dragonhawk didn’t make a single sound, just laid his head back down to continue his nap. The man’s calm demeanor never changed, even as the blood knight strode to him to block his path. He smiled softly at her gleaming armor, his own gaze meeting the scowling eyes behind the mask.

“Ah, there you are,” he said as though greeting an old friend.

“How did you get past Stormbreaker?” she demanded. 

His smile never wavered. “He simply let me pass, of course.”

“Why?”

“Because a smart animal knows not to pick fights with those higher up the food chain than they are.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Kazdormu, and I’m in need of someone equipped with your particular skillset.” He held up his hand as she took a breath to speak. “It’s all right, I don’t need your name, I know you don’t quite remember it. Now go ahead and ask your question.”

She wet her lips in thought as she looked him over. “What’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything at all?”

“Of course.” His smile was kind and genuine. 

She looked around at the empty Botanica. “What if I said all I truly want is to not be here? Alone. To not have had to clean this place of corpses. Can you do that, huh?” she asked on a snarl. “Can you change the fucking past?” 

Roused by her agitation, the dragonhawk squeezed in through the doorway.

Kazdormu stepped to her and a chill ran up her spine as an uneasy feeling swirled in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes darted to the right where Plant and Stormbreaker were frozen, locked in time. 

“Yes, I can.”

“They’re coming with me,” she said softly. “What is my mission?”

He grinned and time around them returned to normal. He took her hand in his. “You, my pet, are going to help _me_ rewrite history.”


	2. Chapter 1

Anarchaia pulls Grimory’s wrapped box away from him as the demon hunter inspects the tag. “Not yet. You have you wait for everyone else to get here,” she scolds and pushes it far beneath the tree she’d set up in a small annexed room in the Nighthearts’ tavern.

The Illidari rolls his eyes and sits back with his drink.

Taveth arrives with Kel’ori in tow. The mage resists against his pulling.

“Nobody wants me here, Tav!”

“I want you here,” he says. “I’m sure the others will be happy to see you.”

“Move it or lose it!” Alisbeth screams as she barrels past to leap onto the demon hunter. “How did your thing go? Good, I assume, 'cause you got here early.”

Grimory nods and smiles, locking her arms around his neck with his own. ::Yeah. They obviously weren’t interested in anything I had to say. Which was nothing.::

Taveth finds a seat and drags Kel’ori down beside him. “Koltira said he’ll be right here,” he tells the mage. “He’s doing a last minute thing at the shop?”

“I really shouldn’t be here. The baby—” Kel’ori hisses.

“That’s why we brought Docra,” Taveth hisses back at her. “Shut up and have a good time, okay?”

“A-actually, I got you a gift, too, Kel. Since Ali took care of my debt, I could actually afford one for everyone this year.” Anarchaia says somewhat sheepishly, then nods at Taveth’s information.

Kel’ori smiles slightly. “I got you something, too, actually. Erv should have put it under the tree.”

“I got a little something for everyone, too,” Taveth says.

Alisbeth dives under the tree to examine the name tags. “How many did I get?”

Koltira enters and sets a small wrapped box under the tree, away from the snooping blood elf, then sits beside Anarchaia. “Docra said she’s not joining us. She and Ervaen are discussing her work, I guess. She said to scream if…anything happens.”

The mage flushes and nods.

“Is this everyone, then?” Taveth asks the undead girl.

Anarchaia nods. “I got something for Eophen, but he said he couldn’t make it. I guess he and his family are getting settled in Stormwind.”

“I can take it to him later,” Taveth offers.

She grins at Grimory. “Okay, _now_ you can open it.”

The demon hunter easily peels away the paper from his gift and blinks down at the leather notebook with a _G_ stamped into the cover and gold lining the pages. ::Thanks, Ana.::

“I’m assuming that was _thanks_. Now you can write to us instead of mouthing.” She giggles.

Grimory’s eyelids lower. ::I think I’ll just use it for notes.::

Alisbeth finishes digging around in the tree and sets a final present on one of many piles. “I sorted them!” She shoves each stack to the corresponding recipient. “I hope you guys like what I got you. It’s only the _best_ possible gift ever.” She sets herself up beside Grimory to start ripping open a box, then frowns at the contents and sets it aside before reaching for another package.

Koltira purses his lips at the small stack of gifts at his feet, then leans to whisper to the mage beside him. “I only got you something.”

Anarchaia blinks up at him, then gives a reassuring smile. “I labeled everything from both of us. I hope you don’t mind.” She watches as Alisbeth pulls out the candy cane bouquet she’d gotten her. “And thank you, Tav. I’d appreciate that.”

The stairs give a quiet creak as another figure makes its way down them. Jorick, dressed in a festive sweater pulled over a collared shirt, scratches at the back of his neck as he smiles. “Turns out I found some time.”

Anarchaia’s grin widens and she waves him over. “Good! I’d have had to throw your gift away otherwise.” The two chuckle as he sets himself on the arm rest beside her.

“A better place for it,” he laughs. “You know I hate gifts.”

“And you know I don’t care.” She sets the small box in his lap, then picks up the small package from Koltira. “What is it?”

Alisbeth squeals loudly. “This is the _best_ possible gift _ever!_ ” She takes one out and begins crunching it into little pieces between her teeth.

Kel’ori purses her lips. “Does that mean she got us all candy canes?” She opens the gift from Alisbeth and sneers at the assortment of different flavored canes. Wrapped around the center, though, is an ornate mithril necklace with a ruby pendant. “Now I feel bad I didn’t get anything for her,” she whispers.

“I don’t think she’ll care,” Taveth says, unwrapping a new quill from Anarchaia. “Oh, wow, this is beautiful. Thank you!”

Koltira nods a greeting to the human, then gives the mage a blank look. “It’s a million microscopic, flesh-eating insects., Obviously.”

Anarchaia gasps with fingertips to her lips as she grins. “How did you know?” She opens the small gift and her face softens. “Oh, Kolt. I love it.” She gingerly lifts the bracelet from the box, little charms of books, quills, and runes tinkling from the links. She kisses his cheek and holds out her wrist for him to clasp it around. “I left your gift at home.”

Koltira gingerly fastens the bracelet around her bony wrist, then kisses the top of her hand. “Are you sure my gift isn’t right here? Just…overly-clothed?” He gives her a devilish smirk.

Anarchaia gently bites her lower lip as she smiles. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She looks past him as he pulls her close.

Jorick snerks as he pulls out a new belt—multiple places for daggers and other items lining it. “I suppose the old one has seen better days. Thanks, little bird.”

The death knight's eyes narrow somewhat at the human’s use of a cute nickname he assumes is from their romantic past. Instead of saying anything, he wraps a territorial arm behind the mage and pulls her closer to his side. The undead woman gives Jorick a small smile.

Grimory steals a cane from Alisbeth and smirks as he crunches off an end. ::Shame. I got you the same thing. But with whiskey.::

Alisbeth squeals. “You got me _whiskey?_ And _candy canes?_ I’m gonna crush them up and put them in and wait until they melt so I can have a peppermint whiskey." She pushes aside her other gifts, ignoring the second one from Taveth to rip open the one from Grimory so she can execute her plan. “This is the best ever. You’re the best ever.” She gives him a quick peck on the lips, then returns her attention to pulling out the cork on the bottle.

Grimory grins triumphantly. ::That was the intent.::

Kel’ori nervously opens the gift from Anarchaia, then stops. Tears come to her eyes and she sets the back of her fingers to her lips. She frowns at the other mage, but is unable to say anything.

A frown threatens her features. “You don’t like it,” she says to the elven mage matter-of-factly. “I can return it…”

The mage shakes her head as Taveth leans over to look in the box. “I just realized I forgot clothes. I’ve been rushing to get everything I need for the baby and…I forgot clothes.” She lifts a yellow onesie from the box, then slowly sorts through the rest of the clothes. “It’s all gender neutral, too.” She cries a little harder and covers her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not upset. This is perfect. I…need to get you something.”

Taveth grins between the two mages. “Open the one I got you!”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes over at the baby clothes. “Shoulda killed it before it learned to defend itself,” she whispers. “I bet it’ll be defenseless without her magic. Babies die in their cribs all the time.” Her eyes bug with a vicious plan. “Don’t worry, Grim. I’ll take care of it for you.” She finishes dropping in crumbled canes and beats the cork back on so she can shake it up and set it aside.

Grimory’s eyes widen some as well, but for a different reason. He shakes his head. ::You aren’t going to kill a baby, Ali.:: He pauses to give her a look. ::Right?::

Alisbeth gently strokes the demon hunter’s hair. “Shh. Don’t worry about it. Just open your presents, okay?”

Koltira blinks at the clothing, then sighs into Anarchaia’s hood. “Wouldn’t it be nice if those were for us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Anarchaia smiles at Kel’ori’s reaction, but the frown returns at Koltira’s. She nods as she brings the gift from Taveth into her lap without having to bend. She opens it and furrows her brow, then lifts the tome from the box and scowls. “How the _hell_ did you get ahold of a copy of this?” She shows him the cover as if he didn't already know—the words _The Codex of Leisande_ scrawled across it in plain blue ink. She peeks inside. “And _untranslated?!_ Taveth!”

Jorick lifts his eyebrows. “Aren’t there, like, three copies of that in existence?”

Taveth recovers from the cringing at Anarchaia’s tone. “Uhm, heh, two and a half, actually. One copy met an unfortunate near-end when the orcs took control of the city. I…think they were using the pages as…heh.”

Kel’ori opens her gift to find a baby rattle made of a green metal that glows with fel energy. She purses her lips at her brother.

Taveth raises his eyebrows in innocence. “What? I thought it was cute. Open the rest.”

She digs through the wrapping tissue to find several more little items, including baby spoons and some jewelry for her. “Taveth…this is all expensive stuff.”

He tears loudly at the paper around a gift from Alisbeth and pretends not to hear.

Grimory, resisting the urge to swat her hand away from his hair, opens his gift from Alisbeth. His shoulders shake with a silent chuckle as he pulls out the exact two items he’d given her. ::Great minds think alike?::

Alisbeth grins at him. “Want me to crush your canes?”

Anarchaia’s face twists in disgust and she stammers for words. “I—… They—… It—… I think I may actually vomit.”

“Not that copy!” Taveth says on a laugh. “That one is intact. I made sure of it.”

“I didn’t think that!” Anarchaia laughs. “Just the thought of someone doing that to such a rare book makes me physically sick.”

Two tall figures step down the stairs, one the familiar Archmage and the other a dark skinned human with bright blond hair who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Khadgar says after clearing his throat politely into a fist. “But I have a task for the lot of you.”

Taveth blinks up at the Archmage. “I’ll have to clear it with… _him_.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and begins packing up the baby clothes and other items into the bag around her shoulders. “I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” she mutters.

Koltira’s fingers twitch and his ears perk. “What sort of task?”

Khadgar motions to the tired looking man beside him and he steps forward. “This is Vendormu, a member of the bronze dragon flight. He has an issue and would like our help.”

The dragon aspect nods. “My brother has been seen running amok in the Outlands twenty-three years ago.” He sighs. “I need someone brave enough to go back and put an end to his shenanigans by any means necessary.” The corner of his mouth twitches in a sneer. “Or it’s my head.”

Koltira purses his lips. “By any means necessary means you have to have it in you to possibly kill your own brother. Are _you_ brave enough for that?”

Vendormu gives Koltira an unamused look. “I wasn’t under the impression that that was included in the phrase _by any means necessary_. Perhaps I should rethink this incredibly important decision I am making.”

“Oh, heh. Guess I’m not going this time?” Taveth smiles absently.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at the dark-skinned man and crunches loudly on several candy canes at once, completely blocking out everything the others are saying. Grimory gives a silent snigger.

Anarchaia shakes her head at Taveth. “No, you have to come! Imagine the research!” She jerks as the tome she’d been clinging to is snatched from her hands.

Khadgar scowls down at the cover. “Is this real? Where did you get this?”

She grasps for it back but he holds it out of her reach as he flips through the pages. “Taveth got it for me!”

Koltira narrows his eyes at the aspect. “I’ll remember that when you have a last minute change of heart and try to stop me.”

Alisbeth blinks at everyone and crunches even louder, opening her mouth so the sound travels.

Kel’ori sneers at the death knight. “Is that really necessary?”

As response, the blood elf shoves another candy cane into her mouth. Taveth purses his lips and says nothing, just helps his sister pack her new things.

“Change of heart. Right.” He looks around at the lot, then lifts his hands. “Right. All but the weaselly one, the pregnant one, and…” He purses his lips at Jorick’s sweater.

The man smiles in response and shrugs. “I’ll go. Sounds like fun.”

Vendormu rolls his eyes beneath their lids and, in a swirl of golden, blinding light. A vortex of sparkles, stars, and moments in history fly by as the group stands frozen. When the whirlwind of magic finally subsides, they are all standing in a dimly lit room with stone walls and leather hammocks lining them.


	3. Chapter 2

The dragon blinks at Taveth and Kel’ori. “Whoops. Looks like I grabbed everyone. No matter.”

Kel’ori blinks at the area, her hand still stuffing the last of the clothes into her bag. Her eyes go wide. “Whoops,” she hisses at Vendormu. “ _Whoops?_ ” She stomps over to grab him by the shirt. “This isn’t a ‘whoops’, this is a disaster! Do you realize that I am due _any day!_ And Docra isn’t even here! This isn’t a simple _whoops_ , you inept little—” She goes quiet and just breathes in deeply through her nose, her teeth grit and her knuckles white as she clenches her fist. After a moment she breathes out and glares at him. “You have to take me back!”

Taveth frowns and sinks to the floor. “Oh, no. This is bad. I’m not supposed to be here. What if something happens to me? Wh-what am I supposed to do?”

Koltira leans against the wall, his eyelids lowered in irritation. “Oh, no, I didn’t want to pack a bag or bring an extra weapon. No, no. Just Byfrost is fine.” He scoffs. “You’re lucky I had it on me, pal.”

Alisbeth frowns at the empty floor where her box of candy canes had been. “Ah wan mah cany cans beck!” she shouts over the peppermint mush in her mouth.

Jorick simply gestures to the festive sweater he’s wearing.

Anarchaia looks around, then scowls. “Master must have a warding spell on himself.” Her scowl deepens as she realizes. “He has my book! He’s gonna take it!”

Vendormu gives a small smile at the chaos, not fully conveying if he feels guilty or amused. He tries to remove Kel’ori’s hands from his robes, but they hold fast. “I’m afraid there’s a twenty-four-hour limit on non-draconic entities between travels.”

Grimory sets a hand on Alisbeth’s back. ::I’m sure there’s something we can get you here, yeah?:: His face travels just past her and to the floor near the dragon and mage—a pool of darkness grows on the stone beneath them. His eyes widen slightly. ::Uh…::

The mage shakes her head. “No. No. You have to take me ba- _ACK!_ ” She whimpers and grabs at the aspect’s shoulder to keep herself upright, her fingers digging into the man’s skin. “Nonono. You have to take me back. Now.” She hisses and presses one palm to the side of her large belly. “Oh, gods, what did you _do?_ ”

Taveth stands and goes to his sister. “Oh…cripes. Um…so…anyone here secretly a midwife?”

Alisbeth raises her hand but doesn’t move. “I once helped deliver a colt.”

“ _I’m not a fucking horse!_ ”

Vendormu gives a sort of disgusted sigh and holds the woman up with an arm. He eases her onto the floor after plucking a pillow from one of the hammocks. “You hairy beasts are always so messy. No matter what you do.” He sneers at the hems of his robes.

Grimory cringes. ::I never liked helping with this sort of thing. Was one of the things I didn’t miss when I left.:: He inches toward the door along with Jorick.

“Yeah, seeing my baby sister being born was pretty traumatizing,” the man chuckles nervously.

Alisbeth helps shove the demon hunter out the door. “I’ll take care of it, Grim,” she whispers, nodding emphatically.

Grimory grabs Alisbeth by the upper arm and pulls her out with him. :: _No_.::

Koltira’s lower eyelids raise and he simply says, “Pass.” He, too, joins the queue for the door.

Alisbeth pouts as she’s shut out of the room. “It’s like you don’t trust me. Why don’t you trust me?”

Anarchaia meekly raises a hand. “I-I’ve done some research.” She clears her throat. “ _A lot_ of research…” She holds up a hand, palm upturned, then frowns when nothing happens. “I can’t conjure.”

Taveth purses his lips at Anarchaia. “I can help. Maybe.”

“If an inept dragon hadn’t teleported me into the _middle of nowhere,_ I’d have _Docra’s_ help!” Kel’ori slaps at Vendormu with one hand while gripping his robes with the other.

The dragon rolls his cyan eyes. “Your body is built for doing literally this. You’ll be fine, you Drama Queen.”

Anarchaia fidgets before nodding at Taveth. “We need hot water—or just water. And cloth. A-and something sharp. Can you find those things?” She pulls out a potion of briarthorn extract from her small side satchel and kneels beside Kel’ori. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You can hold my hand.”

Koltira makes a face as the mage in the other room cries out. Taveth runs from the room, pale but determined to carry out the orders. The death knight grabs an abandoned bottle and smashes it, leaving the neck intact.

“That hardly seems sanitary,” the scholar objects.

“Not many options here.” He shoves the sharp object into Taveth’s hands and finds another door to walk through, which leads outside. “Come find me when she’s done shrieking like a banshee.”

Anarchaia thanks Taveth as he brings her the items she’d requested, then scowls over at the dragon lounging on a hammock as she heats the water and soaks the cloth in it. “Are you going to help?!” She holds out the small tincture to Kel’ori.

Vendormu gives a one-sided shrug. “I’m sure you can handle this.”

The undead woman scoffs. “Okay, Kel. Just drink that for the pain, don’t stop breathing, and push.”

When all is said and done, Anarchaia stares down at the wailing infant in her bloodied lap—its mouth already filled with sharp teeth and tiny dull horns adorning its head. She shakily cuts the cord with a heated shard of glass but cannot break her eyes away. “I-…It’s a boy.”

Kel’ori uses a shaky hand to wipe sweat from her forehead. “Oh,” she says deliriously.

“Congratulations,” drones Vendormu over the cries, then sits up when he sees. “Did you mate with a _dragon?_ ”

Taveth purses his lips at the aspect. “No.” He tentatively goes to Anarchaia. His lavender eyes settle on the oddities of the newborn, then flick to his sister. “I think she needs to rest,” he mutters.

“No,” she objects, “gimme. Mine.” She weakly holds out her arms for the baby.

Anarchaia hesitates before holding out the child, placing him cautiously into his mother’s arms.

Kel’ori’s brow pulls together as she looks at the horns and the teeth. “Wh-what do I call him?” she asks no one.

Anarchaia gives Taveth a quick glance before clearing her throat and busying herself with ridding her clothes of the blood and other fluids. “U-uhm. Is there a name that means something to you? Preferably…not demonic. Heh.”

A swirling purple vortex grows in the center of the room. Tryxora steps through, her lips pressed in a line as she looks at the baby. <<I felt you coming, little one.>> She crouches down and touches a fingertip to one of his horns. <<What did you name him?>> she asks, her eyes trained on Kel’ori as Taveth translates.

“I…um…Bel…theas.” She pulls the baby away from the demoness. “He won’t be like you. I won’t let him be evil.”

<<I’m not evil. But good, protect this precious little thing.>> She pokes his nose, then goes to Taveth to squish him in a hug. <<You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you?>>

He grunts. “You can go now, Tryx.”

“That’s a nice name,” Anarchaia says with a tired smile. She goes to retrieve the others.

~ * ~

Grimory follows Koltira outside, pulling Alisbeth with him. ::You mean to tell me that if I left you in there you _wouldn’t_ have tried to kill that bab—:: He stops short as the heat of the atmosphere hits him. He looks up at the cloudless sky above a vast expanse of red sand. ::Outlands.::

“No,” Alisbeth scoffs, her nose in the air, “I would’ve taken care of a demon. Hey, I remember this place!”

Koltira strides away from the others and finds somewhere to stand and keep watch, his frosty gaze sweeping across the lifeless plane.

Grimory swallows. ::Twenty-three he said? I…:: He shakes his head, ridding it temporarily of the memories, and smiles at Alisbeth. ::You have? When?::

“I was a knight under Kael’thas. We once flew over this area on dragonhawks… There were ten of us.” She rubs her forehead. “I can’t remember why.” Alisbeth smiles up at him. “You were there, right?”

Grimory simply nods, a pensive look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

The Illidari suddenly looks down at her, then forces a smile after a moment and shakes his head. ::Nothing.:: He messes her hair.

“How the hell are you so good at reading lips?” Jorick blurts from behind them, arms folded and leaning against the warm stone building.

Alisbeth blinks at the human. “Umm…” She scrunches her face, thinking hard. “I can’t remember. But I’ll let you know when it comes back to me!”

“It’s done,” Anarchaia calls to her group of bored friends.

Grimory doesn’t move, however. He purses his lips and watches Jorick join the mage at the door.

Koltira goes to her, but unenthusiastically.

Alisbeth watches the others, then looks back at Grimory. “I’ll stay with you, if you want.”

He sighs and shakes his head. He takes her by the wrist and leads her to the others.

Taveth exits the room, the aspect in tow. “She’s uhm… Just leave her alone for a bit. Heh.”

Vendormu clears his throat into a fist. “Yes, I know the whole _monster baby_ thing is enchanting, but there are slightly more pressing matters. Like saving your timeline.” He scans their faces. “First matters first. I’ll need to restore you all to your appearance appropriate for the time. If any of you were not alive twenty-three years ago, or if you desire to remain this way to dodge an old lover or something—I won’t ask—your form will not change.” He raises an eyebrow at them. “Anyone not willing to give up their current form for a younger, better one?”

Jorick immediately raises his hand.

Anarchaia blinks around at the faces beside her, excitement building in her chest. “We get to be alive again?”

Grimory thinks, brow knit and scratching his goatee. ::But I’ll miss my beard.:: _But you’ll get to see her again_. He lowers his arm to cross both over his chest and shakes his head.

Taveth blinks and looks himself over. “I’m pretty sure that I haven’t changed much in two decades.”

Koltira snorts. “I was already dead at this point. Unless I’ve decayed and not noticed, I’m in the same shape. Just…with my own will.”

Alisbeth chews on her lower lip and stares at the dirty floor. “Will… Will I actually be alive? … Or will I just _look_ alive?”

Vendormu gives Alisbeth a bored look. “You’ll just look alive. I can’t change how your brain works or give or take memories.”

She grabs a broken axe handle and lobs it at the aspect. “ _Then what good are you?_ ” She runs back outside, crying.

Vendormu gives a slight flinch as the object strikes him in the shoulder. He clears his throat. “Right, just you two, then?”

Grimory and Anarchaia give one another hesitant glances before turning back and nodding.

“Great. The rest of you don’t go messing things up, then.” He lifts a hand adorned in golden armor and gems and the two are shrouded in a bright golden light. When it fades, they look down at themselves then at each other.

Anarchaia snerks. “You had a ponytail?”

Grimory scowls. “Yeah, what of it?” He blinks, startled by the sound of his own voice.

Taveth makes a noise of insult. “What’s wrong with a ponytail?” He grabs defensively at his own.

Koltira hesitates a second before going to the mage. He pulls her mask slowly up to look at her face. His fingertips settle for a moment on her cheek and he purses his lips at just how blue his skin is compared to hers.

Grimory chuckles at Taveth’s attitude and scratches at a spot on his head where once there were horns. “I think she just thinks I look bad with one.” He turns to look for Alisbeth.

Pulling her mask completely off, Anarchaia grins sheepishly and brings a hand up to press his fingers to her face. “Am I warm?”

Vendormu rolls his eyes. “Again, you just look like you did twenty-three years ago. You aren’t actually alive.”

The mage deflates, frowning. “At least let me dream.”

The dragon sighs. “My brother has been seen in this area aiding the Burning Legion in an attempt to help Sargeras in the future. Do whatever you deem necessary to rid us of him.”

Koltira blinks as though woken by the dragon’s words. “You’re always warmer to me, anyway,” he says. He glances back to the man. “Any idea where he is and what he’s trying to do? Or are we just running around without a plan outside of ‘stop him’?”

Vendormu scratches at the short hairs on the back of his neck. “Mmmmnope. You can check at Falcon Watch. I honestly have no idea what form he’ll be taking, either.”

Anarchaia gives a faint scoff and stores her mask in the bag at her hip. “You’re lucky we’re resourceful enough on our own.”

Taveth gently clears his throat. “While I’m all for an adventure in the past, the least you could have done is given us time to pack. And let my sister leave.”

“Or just be competent enough to not take everyone in the first place. I need armor,” Koltira growls, not bothering to hide his anger.

“According to historical record, honor hold _should_ exist at this time. I can go and get you—”

The death knight holds up his hand. “Just because your eyes aren’t green, doesn’t mean they’ll trust you. Out here, you’re just as bad as Kael’thas’s followers. We can send Ana.” He casts his icy gaze on the dragon aspect. “Let me guess, you don’t have gold, either.” He storms from the building, muttering about the man’s incompetence before slamming the door behind him.

The dragon cannot hold back a small snerk as he brings his fingertips to his lips. “No, I do not have need for such means,” he says as the death knight stomps past. “My, so—” he flinches when the door slams, “—moody.”

Anarchaia purses her lips at the man and follows Koltira.

Jorick leans back against the wall, arms folded as she leaves. “Welp. Someone let me know when we’ve got a coherent plan. Or when the death knights stop being so whiny.”

Taveth lets out a huff of indignation at the aspect and the human. “Is this just an amusing game to you? You really think their annoyance is unfounded? Try a little compassion toward their woes, and maybe they’d treat you a little kinder.” He goes into the other room where his sister is still laying on the floor, looking exhausted.

“The floor hurts,” she says. “Do you think the hammocks are safe to lie in?”

“I’m not sure. I can have someone come in and help you? I just…need to borrow your cloak.”

Kel’ori blinks at him. “Oh. Sure. Take Bel for a moment?”

Taveth freezes.

In the corner, Tryxora giggles. <<I can—>>

“You’re not touching him,” the elf growls, recognizing that much demonic.

The demoness holds up her hands. <<Just trying to help.>>

Taveth whimpers and gently takes the infant, holding it slightly away from himself as though at any moment it may sink its teeth into his neck. Bel'theas blinks his completely black eyes and gives a small whimper.

“Hurry,” the elf says.

Kel’ori finishes removing the cloak and tosses it aside, then holds out her hands. “He doesn’t bite, Tav.”

<< _Yet_ ,>> Tryxora insists.

“Take your demon with you,” Kel’ori shouts as he leaves the room.

<<Nope. Not going,>> the succubus says. She folds her arms and leans back. <<Someone has to keep an eye out when you sleep.>>

“I bet she’s just waiting to take him to the Nether!”

Taveth closes the door on the squabbling women. “Those three need a babysitter,” he says to the two men. “Any takers?”

Jorick and the aspect give one another a glance. The former shrugs his shoulders. “I have some experience with the niece and nephews. Just let me know when the others need me.” He pauses in the doorway when Vendormu doesn’t follow, then grabs him roughly by the arm and drags him in with him.

The high elf throws the cloak over his shoulders and lifts the hood, doing his best to hide his ears. He exits the hut and turns away from the others to make his way to the road leading to Honor Hold.

Jorick rubs his hands together nervously as he approaches the elf on the floor. “Need some help, I hear?” He eyes the succubus in the shadows.

Tryxora folds her arms under her bust and huffs. <<I am perfectly capable of handling a demon child. Really, you act like I’ve never—>>

“You’re not going to make my baby evil!” Kel’ori shouts, still not fully understanding what the demoness is saying.

<< _I’m not trying to!_ >>

“Stop screaming at me in demonic!” She fixes her haughty gaze on the men. “Get me off this disgusting floor… Please.”

Jorick and the aspect again look at one another. The human runs a hand over his hair and gives a smile to the elf. “Yeah, sure.” He kneels to take the baby from Kel’ori and gingerly hands it to Vendormu.

The dragon and infant glare at one another before the latter begins crying.

Jorick purses his lips and again kneels to take Kel’ori into his arms. Muttering a string of apologies as she cries in pain, he sets her in one of the hammocks and pulls a blanket from another to drape over her. “How’s that?” he says over the crying.

The mage nods and holds out her arms. “What did you do? He doesn’t like it.”

Vendormu gives her a bemused look. “Nothing. It’s a baby. And a demon. They don’t like anything.”

Jorick rolls his verdant eyes and pulls off his sweater. “Here.” He folds the excess around the infant and ties the sleeves around his front as a makeshift diaper. “Wasn’t gonna use it after today, anyway.”

Kel’ori makes a face at the aspect. “I think he just doesn’t like _you_.”

<<I don’t like him, either,>> Tryxora mutters from the corner.

The mage smiles up at the human, ignoring the succubus. “Thank you. You’re so kind. Um, who are you, again?”

Jorick blinks before chuckling quietly. “Oh, right. The name’s Jorick. I’m a friend of Ana and Thass.” He holds out a hand. “I’ve picked up that you’re lanky boy’s sister, but haven’t gotten your name either.”

Vendormu gives the women both a mild glare before setting himself in a chair and folding his arms. He cocks an eyebrow at the other man. “Did you lose a fight with a lumber mill?” he says in monotone, addressing the menagerie of scars.

Jorick turns his head, brow knit but smile remaining. “If I’d lost I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

The high elf smiles as she shakes his hand. “I’m Kel’ori.” Her eyes flick momentarily to the man’s scars, before she averts her gaze and adjusts the sleeping baby in her arms. She closes her eyes and gives a soft moan. “I’m going to sleep while he does, if you all don’t mind. I learned that lesson with Diori.”

Tryxora hops to her feet and goes to wave shoeing hands at the men. <<I’ve got this under control, you can leave now.>>

Jorick folds folds his arms. “The lady says she’s not interested in your help.” His arms, however, fall back to his sides as his eyes glow pink. He turns and exits without another word.

Vendormu sneers when she turns toward him next. “That horseshit don’t work on me, harlot.”

Tryxora humphs and goes back to sit on the crate in the dark corner.


	4. Chapter 3

Grimory finds Alisbeth behind the building punching at a wooden post haphazardly dressed as a training dummy. He stands and watches her for a moment, resting on a hip and folding his arms. “You winning?”

She turns so her back is directly to the demon hunter and runs a thumb under her eyes, then returns to hitting the target. “No,” she says after a moment, then decides against saying anything else.

He steps forward and grabs her fist the next time she pulls it back. “I think you did. Do you want to talk about it?”

Alisbeth freezes for a moment, then turns to look him in the eyes. She blinks rapidly and cocks her head. “I know you…”

Grimory gives a small smirk. “Yeah. I shoed your horse for you.”

She smiles gently, her features softening. She runs her fingers through his long hair, pulling the ribbon to free the strands. “Hello, farmboy.”

He returns the gentle smile. It turns into a smirk. “Hey. I…have some grain sacks that need hauling.” He chuckles. “Don’t miss my horns?”

She sucks on her lower lip. “I like you either way.”

His smile widens on one end as he rubs a hand through her hair to rest at the back of her neck. “Me, too.”

She wraps her hands around his neck and rests a cheek on his shoulder. “M-maybe I should have…asked him to change me, too.” She jumps suddenly and grins. “We should go find ourselves and scare the shit out of ourselves! I’ll probably beat the hell out of me and call me awful names, but would I be wrong?”

He lifts his eyebrows and wraps an arm around her. “I think he said something about not touching ourselves?” He furrows his brow and taps at his now bare chin. “Or was that my mother?”

She giggles. “How about if I do all the touching?”

He chuckles. “I’m not opposed. We really should go get briefed, though…”

Alisbeth sneers. “I suppose.”

~ * ~

“Wait!” Anarchaia chirps as she jogs to catch up. “Hold on. It’s not that big a deal. We can just steal some armor, right? Heh.”

Koltira stops, his lips tight. He looks at her living appearance and relaxes, his features softening. “I just…don’t like being dragged away without so much as a moment to get ready. The _one_ time I relax enough to not wear armor.”

She smiles faintly. “I understand. But there’s no problem we can’t overcome, right? We’ll find something for you guys to use.” She pushes her fingers into his balled fist.

He sighs and closes his eyes. “I guess you’re right. As usual. I just… Would it kill him to apologize for being…incompetent? And for rushing us? We have no information, no plan, no supplies…”

The mage takes note of the cloaked figure leaving the building but otherwise pays no mind. She offers a reassuring smile. “That’s okay! We’re used to adventure and hardships.” She pulls him back toward the others. “C’mon. I can’t promise to get an apology, but we can devise a plan.”

Koltira follows, nodding. “Yes. I suppose. Just one small hint of where we should start would be great.”

She stops at the door as they return. “You want me to ask alone? Or do you want to see the baby?” She gives a nervous chuckle.

He pauses. “I… Should I? I mean…doesn’t it look like any other baby?”

She gives a painful smile. “Not exactly,” she says through grit teeth.

His expression flicks between curiosity, fear, disgust, and concern multiple times. “Um…”

Anarchaia gives a nervous chuckle as she turns, then says a quiet _oof_ as she runs directly into Jorick’s bare chest. She flushes and stiffens. “What happened to your sweater?”

The man blinks down at himself as though just waking up. He perks and grins with a shrug. “Function over fashion?”

Koltira’s lips press to a line as he pulls the mage back. “Clever,” he growls.

Alisbeth leads Grimory back into the lonely hut by the hand and cocks her head at the human. “Are we taking our shirts off?”

Jorick’s eyes flit briefly to Koltira’s but he hides his irritation well. He gives Alisbeth a chuckle and scratches at the back of his head. “Nah, just me. Figured the new addition could use some threads.”

Grimory furrows his brow. “Did you fall into a pit of angry furbolgs?”

The man lowers his shoulders, the humor gone from his eyes and replaced with wear.

“Is the aspect still here? We have some questions.” Anarchaia says after clearing her throat, refraining from also commenting on the scars.

Jorick shrugs. “If you can get past the demon witch, yes.”

Rather than commenting, Alisbeth hops to the human and traces his scars with her fingertip while humming.

He purses his lips down at the woman but otherwise makes no motion to move. “You all right, there, missy?”

She nods and continues humming.

Grimory takes Alisbeth gently by the elbow. “Remember what we said about personal space, yeah?”

She grins first at Grimory, then at Jorick. “I like his scars. They tell a great story.”

“You heard them, hm? You gotta touch ‘em to hear them?”

Jorick gives a small shrug, the fuss suddenly making him uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t ever take my shirt off, I guess.” He gives Grimory’s shoulder a pat as he passes for the door. “Some of us just can’t pull off the look as well as you demon boys.”

A blush plays at Grimory’s cheeks and he scowls at the far wall.

Alisbeth grins at the demon hunter, but says nothing.

~ * ~

Anarchaia gives a quiet scoff and pushes past the two back into the room. “You.” She points at the aspect, then notices the sleeping baby. “ _You_ ,” she says in a significantly quieter tone. “You need to be more elaborate on where we need to go.”

Vendormu shrugs. “I told you Falcon Watch was a good place to start.”

“How are you this incompetent?”

“Not so. Just apathetic. I’ll play babysitter until you come back with a lead.”

Anarchaia clenches her fists.

Koltira grits his teeth. “No. I’m not playing this fucking game. You want us to clean up after your family while you sit back and be completely useless. My answer is no. Fuck you.”

He lifts a brow at the elf. “And you intend on getting back to your time how, exactly?” He gives a small smirk. “No one said you wouldn’t be rewarded, either.”

He purses his lips to keep from yelling angrily. “You,” he begins slowly, seething through his teeth, “are the literal worst dragon. Keep your shitting reward. I’m sure it’s as useless as you are.”

Vendormu smirks some more and leans back to rest his hands between his head and the stone wall. “All right, no reward for you, then. I could turn your girlfriend back, too, if you want.”

Anarchaia stiffens and grabs for Koltira’s elbow. “L-let’s just go, Kolt. Heh.”

He points an angry finger at the aspect as he lets the mage pull him out the door. “You’re a special sort of asshole.”

Vendormu chuckles quietly to himself and looks over to the succubus looming over Kel’ori protectively. “Mortals. So easy to ruffle, am I right?”

The demoness freezes for a second, then shakes off the sensation. <<I’m not your friend, either.>> She turns her back on him to stare at the infant.

Vendormu gives a helpless shrug. “You and everyone else, my dear.”

Anarchaia sighs and closes the door behind her. “P-perhaps Falcon’s Watch is the next best step.” She pauses and looks around at the faces. “Wait. Where is Taveth?”

Grimory blinks. “He wasn’t in there with—?” He clears his throat. “With…Kel?”

Koltira merely closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

The demon hunter shrugs. “Probably finding a shower some—”

“South!” Anarchaia suddenly blurts, making the demon hunter jump. “I saw someone leaving here and heading south! It must have been him!” She curses at herself. “C’mon. We have to go find him. And maybe some armor on the way.”

Jorick perks at the thought of armor and follows with little argument.

Koltira follows eagerly as well, distance from the aspect being most appealing to him.

Alisbeth makes a face. “Who’s the idiot that let him go alone?”

“All of us were preoccupied!” Anarchaia pauses, then regards the mercenary. “But you.”

Jorick lifts his palms defensively. “I wasn’t aware he was one that needed adult supervision.”

Grimory rolls his eyes. “A fair defense, I guess.”

Alisbeth sticks her tongue out at the human and the demon hunter.

Jorick narrows an eye at the death knight woman. “And here I let you grope me. No respect.”

After a short while the group comes upon a bundle of abandoned armor. Anarchaia frowns down at it, then looks up to see what would seem to be an Alliance structure just on the horizon. “You think this was his?”

Grimory shrugs. “Could he even lift that much?”

Koltira eyes the mess, then stoops to investigate. “There are two sets of gear here, one is for a woman.” He indicates the bump on the breastplate.

“Is it for me?” Alisbeth squeals and jumps forward. “Mine!”

Koltira holds her back with a palm. “There was a small struggle here. Looks like someone—probably Taveth—scuffed their heels in the dirt as someone much larger stood over him.”

Jorick nods, then points to the shallow gash in the sandstone boulder. “An axe, most likely. Favored weapon of the Horde. Orcs and Tauren, specifically. But this ain’t Mulgore, and those aren’t hoof prints.”

Anarchaia taps the toe of her boot in the dry clay. “I think he was getting this armor for you guys.” She pauses to count the pieces. “Well. Kolt and Ali.”

Jorick shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Grimory frowns. “But which direction did they go?”

Koltira shakes his head. “You wear it. I’m sure I’m safer without armor than you.” He unties the pieces and separates them as Alisbeth snatches each of her pieces from his hands before he can make a pile. “Only one wea—”

“Mine!” Alisbeth snatches the axe, then begins unbuckling each piece of gear to put them on.

Koltira narrows his eyes at her, then moves aside for the human.

Jorick blinks, eyebrows raising. “You sure?” He shrugs and grabs the pieces when he receives a nod. With a little help buckling on the cuirass and guards, he smiles. “Like a loose-fitting glove.”

Grimory points. “A trail. Let’s go.”

Koltira regards the hot winds sweeping orange dust across the barren lands. “Let’s hurry before we lose it.”

The group nods dutifully and follows the tracks leading off to the southeast.

“So much for finding this dragon. Why can’t he stay out of trouble?” Grimory grumbles to himself.

“He was only looking out for his family,” Anarchaia says over her shoulder.

“Sure but going out alone is a dumb idea, yeah?”

“We were all pretty preoccupied with our own drama,” Koltira growls. A feeling of guilt gnaws at him. He trudges to the front of the group to walk alone, spurred forward by his own conscience.

Alisbeth skips along, swinging her new axe to get used to the balance of it. “Maybe he wanted to do something fun. I like doing fun things!”

“Something fun like probably being captured and possibly killed by orcs?” Jorick says with a grin and a sideways glance.

Grimory also fidgets apprehensively. “Let’s hope that’s not what happened. He’s not good at protecting himself.”

Anarchaia purses her lips as Koltira trudges away. “If you’re going to pass up armor, you have to stay close!” she calls sharply.

“I’m fine,” Koltira calls back. “I just want to hurry before we lose the trail.”

Alisbeth removes her new helm to smile at the human. “That is fun! Cause then I’d get to kill all of them!”

Jorick’s brows knit but his smile remains. “You think your cousin feels the same?”

Anarchaia gives an apprehensive groan. “Can we not talk about Taveth maybe being dead?”

He shoots a sympathetic smile toward her. “Sorry.”

Grimory jogs ahead to follow Koltira. “What’s our plan if he’s alive?”

“If he’s alive we kill everything,” he responds.

“And if he’s dead we kill everything!” Alisbeth squeals, grinning excitedly. “And then bring him back.”

Koltira’s brow lowers. “Yeah. I guess.”

Grimory purses his lips. “Not sure he’d want that.”

He nods in response to the demon hunter. “I learned my lesson about bringing anyone back…”

The man looks away and hesitates, uncomfortable. “For what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

Koltira purses his lips but says nothing and avoids looking at the demon hunter, his guilt still weighing on him.

He rolls his eyes. “I know you don’t forgive yourself because…it’s you, but just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about me trying to get even with you or anything, yeah?” He pauses. “More than I already have, anyway.”

Koltira tenses his jaw several times as his frosty gaze sweeps over the landscape. “What I did deserves no forgiveness.”

“I like to kill things,” Alisbeth says to Jorick. She shoves the helmet onto her head and the visor drops down with a loud clang. “This hurts my ears. I need ear holes,” she complains, but doesn’t remove the item.

The human unsheathes the shortsword in his belt. “Want me to make some?”

She eyes the sword, then the human. “Won’t that damage your sword?”

Jorick blinks, then shrugs. “It’s not my sword.”

She removes the helm and shoves it at the human. “Earholes, please!”

takes the helm and, cradling it in one arm, sticks his tongue over his lip as he lines up the blade.

Anarchaia whips around at the first strike and her eyes widen below a furrowed brow. “Wh— Stop that!”

Jorick immediately extends the helmet back, an innocent smile on his face.

Alisbeth frowns, her bottom lip poking out. “But he was making holes for me. Would it be better if I did it instead?” She reaches for the sword.

Anarchaia scowls back at them. “We don’t have a healer with us this time around so if anyone gets hurt there’s nothing we can do to help you, all right? Can you both just, I don’t know, behave?”

Jorick nods and pulls the sword out of Alisbeth’s reach. “Yes, ma’am.”

The death knight pouts and shoves the helm back on. “I always behave.”

Koltira stops as the tracks lead into a heavily guarded orc outpost. “Damn. There is no way we’re getting in there quietly, or even unnoticed.”

Grimory nods. He looks down at his hands and in the next second they morph into claws in a flurry of emerald cinders. “Well at least that still works. Maybe—” He jerks as Anarchaia runs into his back.

“Heh. Sorry.”

“I think the lot of us can handle it,” the demon hunter continues.

Koltira shrugs and draws Byfrost. “Guess we’ll start on one side and work our way through until we find him.” He charges forward, knowing the others will follow.

The first orc guard to see the death knight freezes in his tracks and turns to his companion. They both stare at the curious sort of elf for a moment longer before drawing their weapons and readying for the attack.

When the first few guards are slain, a multitude of other orcs make their way to the front lines with axes and heavy swords.

Jorick grits his teeth as an arrow narrowly misses his ear. “We’re quickly getting outnumbered here, friends.”

Grimory clenches his clawed fists. He flinches when another arrow sails toward them and crashes against an invisible barrier blanketing them.

Anarchaia frowns and gives an apprehensive groan. “We should have split up. But this landscape makes it hard to be sneaky.” Her fingers twitch at the end of her outstretched arms as the orcs begin beating at her barrier.

Koltira growls. “Don’t lose focus.” He slashes down an orc through the barrier, but another immediately takes the place of his fallen comrade.

Alisbeth fells another orc and moves onto the next. “This is so fun!” she squeals.

A purple swirl forms in the middle of the group under the protective shell. The succubus flicks her whip, knocking the first row of orcs back and creating a domino effect. She pauses and looks around, her pink eyes wide and lips turned in an angry frown. <<Where is my Tavy-wavy,>> she demands.

Anarchaia scowls and purses her lips at the demoness, understanding the last word. “Captured. If perhaps you’d been here earlier and not fawning over that half demon infant, he wouldn’t have been.”

Tryxora purses her lips. <<I’ll deal with _you_ later.>> In a purple swirl the succubus is gone.

Alisbeth squeaks as the orcs get back to their feet and charge at the group once more.

Anarchaia grunts as the last of the barrier cracks. As a last ditch effort, the shards of the barrier burst into flames, then explode outward, taking the first line of orcs with them.

Grimory rushes forward, slicing as many as possible before taking an arrow to the shoulder. He growls and rips it out, then bellows a cloud of emerald fire over the bulk in front of him.

Jorick finds himself quickly locked in a stalemate between two blades. Both men’s arms shake as they try to overpower each other. With a smirk, the human shifts his body to the side, releases the short sword, and grabs a dagger with the other hand. The orc tips forward when the resistance is gone and impales his own throat on the waiting dagger blade.


	5. Chapter 4

Taveth sighs in the hot air as he crests a hill and sees Honor Hold in the distance. “Oh, much closer than I expected.” He frowns down at the orange sand underfoot and closes his eyes for a moment. “It’ll be fine. They won’t notice I’m an elf. Just get the armor, and some way to carry it…and get out. Easy.” He reaches into his satchel and finds the smooth stone with the lion’s head engraved on it. The pad of his thumb rubs nervously at the pattern as he takes another deep breath and forces himself to keep walking.

Orange dirt coats the elf’s boots and the tail of the cloak by the time he finds himself standing at the gates of Honor Hold. He swallows as his gaze sweeps across the new stone wall surrounding the Alliance outpost. He eyes the two guards and takes a breath. Taveth pulls on his hood and ducks his head. A guard cocks an eyebrow as he passes, then narrows his eyes across the way to his companion. The second guard shrugs and so the first turns to resume his stern scrutiny of the barren land surrounding them.

“I’m looking for an armorer,” Taveth says on a near whisper to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper looks up and nods wearily. “On the west side.”

Taveth nods to the man and exits the inn. He pulls on his hood and makes his way to the other side of the Hold, where a shop bears a sign with an anvil and hammer. Once inside, he goes to the shopkeep. “Do you have any armor that would suffice without being fitted to the wearer?” He eyes a suit of green plate in the corner on a display.

The man nods and scratches at his beard. “I have average sized put-togethers, if that’s what yer lookin’ fer.” He eyes the man before him. “But yer even too skinny fer that.”

Taveth gives an uncomfortable laugh. “They’re not for me. I need a full set for one man and one woman, plus a weapon. I hope that is a simple enough request.” He pauses, licking his lips as he thinks. “As for payment, I was hoping you’d honor this token from our king.” He mentally calculates which king would be holding the throne in this timeline.

The smithy takes the token and eyes it dubiously. He sniffs loudly before nodding. “Gimme a minute to rummage in back. How tall a man?” He hands back the token and sets his hammer down to dip beneath the thick cloth behind him.

Taveth holds up his hand over his head. “About two meters, give or take.” He hold out his other hand to indicate his cousin’s height. “The woman is about here.”

The smithy returns after a long while with the items in his arms and ties all the pieces together with a heavy thread, then wraps the bundle with a thick cloth. “Here ye are. Good luck out there.”

Taveth smiles and takes the bundle, first slinging the axe for Alisbeth across his shoulders. He lifts the armor and the weight drags him down, ripping his hood back and nearly tearing the clasp of the cloak free from the fabric. He drops the plate bundle and yanks his hood back in place, his eyes wide. “Heh. H-heavier than it looks.” He begins dragging the items to the door. “Heh. Heh heh. I b-better get going!”

The mean straightens and scowls. “Hey! Waiddaminnit.” He rounds the anvil and bends at the waist, then straightens. “Ye dropped yer gorget.”

Taveth flinches, then relaxes as he takes the item. “Thank you.” He carefully arranges the items to lift and set across his shoulders, cringing and bowing under the weight. He heads back out to the gates, keeping his head low and his hood pulled over his glowing eyes. The elf pauses as he gets his bearings, trying to discern from which way he’d come before. He finds a landmark he recognizes and begins the arduous trek across the hot land.

The scholar groans under the weight of the armor sets and stoops to set it on the ground. He straightens and rolls his shoulder. After a moment, he sets himself upon a large boulder to rest. “I would sell my soul for a map.”

An axe plants into the soft sandstone inches from his fingers. <<How about you work for it instead?>> a deep voice says in Orcish. The stranger rips the cowl from Taveth’s head, then pulls him to his feet by his ponytail. <<High elf,>> he growls and reaches for his axe.

He scrabbles at the hand pulling on his hair. <<I’m sure we can work this out peacefully,>> he insists, also in Orcish.

The orc sneers at how his gruff language sounds through the tongue of an elf. <<Take it up with the general.>> He turns and drops Taveth to his feet facing south. He prods him hard in the back with the end of his axe. <<Walk. Or I drag you by your hair.>>

The elf flinches and for a moment contemplates fighting back . Instead he closes his eyes, lifts his hands in the air, then begins walking. <<How far are we going?>>

<<Zeth’gor.>>

<<What’s your name?>> the elf asks, peeking over his shoulder. <<I’m Taveth.>>

The orc merely growls in response, already mentally preparing himself to gag his prisoner.

<<I have many friends within the Horde,>> Taveth continues, knowingly stretching the truth. <<I’m an ambassador. If you harm me—>>

<<Then there’s going to be one less ambassador. Now shut up.>>

Taveth clenches his jaw. _Where is that succubus when I actually need her?_

Back at the hut, Tryxora carefully eases the infant from Kel’ori’s arms. In a swirl of purple a tattered cloth appears in her other palm. She swaddles Bel’theas in it, then tucks him back into the crook of the high elf’s arm. <<So precious.>>

The orc and his captive arrive at a bustling yet broken down encampment. Hellfire orcs mill about, sparring and honing weapons. The guard at the entrance regards them.

<<New prisoner?>>

The orc behind Taveth nods. <<Quel’dorei. I’m putting him with the rest until Morkh decides what to do with them.>> He gives Taveth a push forward. <<Hut on the right up ahead.>>

Taveth purses his lips and dutifully goes where he’s directed. He keeps his commentary to himself as he takes in the orc outpost instead before being shoved into a dark Hut. Once his eyes adjust to the dark he takes in the several draenei and one blood elf shut within.

The blood elf--a man with long, bright crimson tresses--perks. He smiles, his green eyes glowing in the darkness. “Welcome to the party hut. Catering’s running a bit late—”

“Shut it, Illidari.”

Taveth smirks at the elf as he drops to the dirt floor. After the orc slams and locks the door, he turns back to the man. “That’s a shame, I hear the food is to die for, here.”

The sin'dorei gives a quiet laugh. “Oh, you’ll die for it.” He gives Taveth a brief inspection. “So what were you up to? Spying, perhaps?”

He lets out a long breath of exasperation. “I bought armor for my friends and was taking it to them. I stopped for a break and he got me by the ponytail.” He releases a small scoff of a laugh, then mutters, “No wonder he cut his off.” He clears his throat. “How did you get caught? He said you’re an Illidari?”

The red haired elf nods and leans back on his palms. “Was. We were on our way to our initiation ritual. Decided to run off instead.” He shrugs as though unashamed. “Found me hiding in a cave further south.” He tilts his head, grinning. “Who cut their hair? Your boyfriend?”

He blushes. “N-no. Heh. Just a friend.” He fidgets in the darkness, then holds out his hand. “I’m Taveth, by the way. Taveth Nightheart. Scholar of Stormwind.”

The elf takes his hand. “Baemalen. Dawnwhisper. Traitor and coward.” He gives a wide smile. “A scholar, eh? How is that working for you?”

Taveth chuckles. “It’s a great profession for cowards, if you don’t mind spending most of your time locked in a library.” He frowns then. “Why did you run off? Illidari life not what you thought it’d be?”

Baemalen scratches at the nape of his neck—the only sign of his unease. “I guess I just got cold feet. Most elves die during initiation. I was nursing a hangover. The odds weren’t in my favor.” He chuckles. “Maybe I’ll look into being a scholar if I ever get out of here.”

Taveth thinks for a moment about the repercussions of him even being in that location, let alone if he changes anything. Against his better judgement, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “My friends…are probably coming. Maybe. Eventually. I’m not sure they’ve noticed I’m missing, yet. Heh. They were rather preoccupied when I left.” He clears his throat. “I’m sure they’d help free you, as well. Maye you can talk to my friend. He’s a demon hunter, as well. Perhaps he can provide you the courage you need to finish your initiation.”

Baemalen tilts his head, then pulls his hair over his shoulder so it no longer touches the floor. “Is that so? Then perhaps.” He gives a laugh with only a hint of nervousness. “I wouldn’t hold out hope. To be honest, I was looking for the portal home and the orcs brought me really close. Now that I know where it is…” He shrugs. “Though I hope you get out of here unscathed.”

Again, Taveth thinks on the consequences of saying anything and bites his tongue. “I wish you luck, then. Whether you accept help from my friends and me, or if you stay here… Good luck. I hope you get home.”

Baemalen perks at a commotion outside. He casts a sideways smirk to Taveth. “Well, it seems that time has come sooner rather than later.”

Taveth gets up and listens at the door, then finds a crack wide enough to look out. Seeing no guards, he takes the opportunity to try summoning Keeshokin. After a moment of nothing happening, he tries for the succubus again. He deflates when she again doesn’t appear.

Baemalen rises to his feet and stretches. “I guess it’s time we make our exit?”

Taveth backs up as the shouting grows more intense. Something pounds against the door and he hops backward. After a moment the blade of a large axe smashes in through the boards, twists, then rips the door completely off the hinges.

Keeshokin tosses the door aside, then glares in at the high elf. <<I was hoping to find your corpse.>>

“Heh. Not today, I’m afraid.” He motions for Baemalen to follow, then urges the other captives out as well.

Out in the small outpost, an orc runs past, screaming as his robe burns with green fire. A shivara runs past, chasing down a group of four, a sword in each of her hands swinging at them. A fireball crashes to the ground then comes together as an infernal, stomping on orcs and crushing them under its feet.

Tryxora lands beside the elf and slams into him. <<You’re okay!>>

“Wh-where are the others?” he asks, somewhat in shock over the sight.

<<Over there.>> She points toward the largest gathering of orcs in the area, all beating against a weakening barrier shielding the five.

Baemalen stands but makes no motion to move. He goes to the door when it’s cleared, brow furrowed. “You’re a _warlock?!_ ” he exclaims, stepping away when a pack of imps scrambles by. His grin returns. “That’s _awesome!_ ” He picks up an abandoned sword and twirls it in his fingers, then slices through the leg of a rushing orc.

Taveth flinches, then blushes as a small smile spreads across his lips. “Th-thanks. It was an accident. Heh.” He blinks as the shouting breaks his small spell of happiness. He withdraws the spine dagger and the flaming skull of Thal’kiel shimmers into view.

<<What an odd locale.>>

“Time to help my friends. Over there!” He points and the demons all make their way to the gathering of orcs, killing any that get in their way.

Tryxora pokes her head in a swirling portal, then steps back. A dark hound leaps out, shakes its purple mane, then looks at the succubus. She hops on the large demon canine’s back and charges across the area, screaming a battle cry.

Taveth furrows his brow. “Oh, no, I’ll just walk. I’m fine.”

Alisbeth throws herself sideways as a huge rock foot comes down to crush the orc she’s fighting. Koltira yanks Anarchaia to the side as a few stray fireballs shoot past the orc the imps were aiming at. With the distraction of the demons, he begins cutting down enemies with renewed vigor.

“Something tells me she found Taveth,” he laughs to the mage.

Anarchaia gives a small, half laugh. “Y-yeah. Thank gods.”

Grimory rushes past the mass of burning orcs and chaos toward Taveth. “Tav! You’re okay!”

The red haired elf perks his ears and turns his head at the voice. He slowly lowers his weapon. “Silversong?” he says quietly, then grins again. “Grimory!” He turns to join the other two elves, but doesn’t get far. A heavy axe digs through the flesh of his shoulder and chest. He stumbles before falling face first into the dirt.

Grimory’s smile turns to a grimace of horror. He grabs at the sides of his head in anguish and disbelief. “ _Baemalen!_ ”

Warlord Morkh rips his weapon from the dead elf and scowls at the other two. He growls as the other Illidari runs toward him. He stops the smouldering claws with his axe. <<Are you two the cause for all this uproar?>>

Eyes flickering with rage-fueled fire, Grimory kicks the massive orc away. He runs at him again and the two enter in a sort of dance where one counters the other. Eventually, strengthened by his need for vengeance, Grimory sees an opening and slashes his claws across the orc’s neck.

Morkh stumbles back, a hand over his throat, then slowly sinks to his knees and dies there, held up by his armor.


	6. Chapter 5

Taveth stares helplessly at the flowing red hair splayed out on the orange dirt. The man’s blood crawls from his wound to wet his tresses. The high elf frowns and goes to the body.

<<Still warm,>> Thal’kiel hisses in his ear. <<There is…something you can do about that.>>

“You’re reminding me of this out of kindness?” he snaps back.

<<It’s always good to have those who…owe you.>>

The elf looks to Grimory. “Is he…?”

Alisbeth goes to Grimory, her lips pursed as she takes in his demeanor. “Grim? Are you okay?”

Grimory gives Alisbeth a look of wear and panic. “No,” he simply mutters and runs over to drop down beside his motionless friend. He gently pushes him over, careful not to pull open the wound. “Bae. Bae, wake up.” He casts a desperate gaze to Taveth as the others gather around.

Taveth frowns and kneels on the other side of Baemalen. “I…can try?” he says to the floating skull.

<<Do it,>> Thal’kiel urges.

Taveth sets his hands over the blood elf on the ground, his palms together. Slowly something forms between them as he mutters in demonic. When he finishes, he furrows his brow at the smooth purple sphere between his palms. A cloudy mist swirls within. He swallows and uses his sleeve to wipe away the sweat forming on his brow. He loses his balance and tips to sit in the dirt.

“H-harder than…I expected.” He holds the orb out to Grimory. “Quickly. If it worked, his soul should be inside the stone. Set it to his chest.”

Anarchaia kneels beside Taveth, a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

The high elf leans into the mage and closes his eyes. “I’ve just never done that before. Wasn't strong enough. The books didn’t say how much energy it would take.”

Grimory does as he’s told, setting the sphere on Baemalen’s chest. It hums, glows a faint green, then sinks into the elf as though made of smoke.

The red haired Illidari gives a weak wheeze as his wound slowly closes—but not completely. His eyes flutter open and he briefly looks from the mage beside him to Alisbeth’s wide eyes in the shadow of her helmet. He smiles. “If this is what it’s like to be dead, don’t bring me back.”

Grimory gives a faint laugh, but it’s clear he’s holding back his distress and relief. “Shut up, you idiot.”

Taveth snaps upright and teeters as Baemalen speaks. “It worked?”

Tryxora grabs the elf in a hug from behind and sets kisses on his cheek. <<Master! You’re so amazing!>>

His nose wrinkles as he tries to pull away from her arms. “Stop. Stop it now. I’m not okay with this. Help.”

Alisbeth points at her cousin and lets out a nasally _Ha!_ “She loves you Tabbef! _Let her love you!_ ” In turn she wraps her arms around Grimory and hugs him close. “Yay! The friend lives! Kind of.” She falls into a giggle fit as one hand slowly reaches to poke his wound.

Koltira clenches his jaw as he stands back. “Great. Awesome. None of this will have any negative impacts on the future.” He scoffs as a sharp punctuation mark to emphasize his sarcasm.

Blushing at the compliment, Anarchaia nearly tips over when Taveth is ripped from her arm. She stands and sighs at the two, then frowns at Koltira. “You really think it will?” she asks quietly.

Koltira purses his lips. “You think it won’t? What if that was his fate?” he hisses.

Grimory grabs Alisbeth’s arm by the wrist as Baemalen sits up. The red-haired elf winces through his smile and accepts help to his feet. He weakly wraps his arms around his Illidari friend. “Thought I’d never see you again, to be honest.”

Grimory returns the embrace. “We can talk about this later. Let’s get back to the outpost.”

Jorick taps at a younger orc’s corpse with the toe of his greave. “Hey, Kolt. This one’s about your size.”

With the last of his energy, Taveth forms a knobby yellow rock in his palm and shoves it into Anarchaia’s lap. The succubus scoops him into her arms as he teeters.

“No. Don’t let her carry me. This is embarrassing,” he whimpers.

The demons all circle around and stare at the party. Tryxora jumps. <<Oh, right, my back door. Here you go!>> She reaches on hand from under Taveth and pokes the air.

A purple vortex swirls open and the demons go in one at a time. Taveth whines again.

Koltira turns and eyes the orc, then rolls it over. “Hmm, no real damage to the armor. Shocking.” He strips the corpse of the gear and buckles it on. “Breastplate is a little wide. Nothing a few hammer strikes won’t remedy.” He goes to the succubus gripping the weakly wiggling scholar and forces him from her arms.

“Ow.”

“Nope. This is your alternative to her carrying you.” He eyes a large building nestled at the back. “There is no way reinforcements aren’t about to come pouring out of there. We need to move.”

The party agrees and, after Baemalen has healed from the stone’s dust, are on their way back toward whence they came.

“How long have you been gone for?” Grimory casually asks as they near Thrallmar.

Baemalen gives him a curious look. “You really haven’t cared enough to keep track? I’m heartbroken.”

The other demon hunter flushes, flustered. “I-it’s hard after so many…days.”

Baemalen laughs weakly, still weary. “A couple weeks. How is Illy? Elly?”

Grimory frowns. “…fine.”

The guards stop the two humans before they can continue, weapons brandished. “End of the line for you two. Turn back or lose your heads.” He sneers at Taveth. “That one, too.”

Anarchaia and Jorick look at one another. “W-we’re ambassadors. Heh,” the mage stammers, then steps back when they step forward. “We can wait.”

Koltira hangs back. “I’ll stay out here with you guys.” He finds a place to set Taveth down.

The high elf opens his eyes a little. “Are we there yet?”

“No. Go back to sleep.”

Taveth pouts, sticking his lower lip out. “I wasn’t— … Okay.” He closes his eyes once more and seems to fall asleep almost instantly.

Alisbeth skips in circles around the two Illidari. “I’ve never been here before. I wasn’t allowed. They would have killed me if I was wearing my armor. They didn’t like Kael’thas. In the end, I didn’t like him, either. Hey, what are we doing here? Why didn’t we just go back to our secret hideout?” She stops in front of them and leans in close to scrutinize the red-haired elf. “Hi! I’m Alisbeth. I didn’t get your name earlier.”

“Supplies,” Grimory says simply. “Perhaps a map. And some herbs. Bandages. Water. “

Baemalen stops, blinks, then grins. “With pretty blue eyes like yours you can call me whatever you want.”

Grimory pulls his ears back and turns. “His name is Baemalen.”

Anarchaia frowns and sighs as she eyes Koltira, making sure the two don’t stray far. “It’s strange being regarded as a human for a change.”

Jorick gives a small laugh. “We ain’t immune to racism, either. There’ll always be someone who hates you regardless of who you are as a person.”

Her eyelids lower. “Comforting.”

It’s only an hour or so before their small, abandoned outpost comes into view. The group—sans Alisbeth—is already weary from the battle and knowing the fact that they’ve made no progress on their current objective.

Grimory looks over his shoulder at the nearly unconscious warlock and darkening landscape. He purses his lips. “Let’s get some rest when we get back. Formulate a plan— _and stick to it_ —for tomorrow, yeah?”

The mage at the back nods. “Sounds good.”

Koltira pushes his way into the back room where the succubus is once again standing over the high elf and the infant, staring adoringly down at the half-demon. She moves to block anyone’s path to the hammock and eyes the death knight.

<<Is he okay?>> she demands.

Koltira blinks at her. “I…don’t know what you’re saying. Taveth is asleep, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He sets the elf in another hammock, narrows his eyes at the dragon aspect, then goes back out to the main area of the hut. He begins to remove the orc armor, rubbing his ears of the pain from the ill-shaped helm. After a moment of thought, he tosses it to the side, opting to forego a helmet in favor of comfort. For a quick moment he contemplates the possibility of going to Icecrown and stealing his own gear from himself, then shakes off the thought.

Alisbeth frowns at the other Illidari as she takes off her helm so he can see her expression. “I don’t like my eyes. I don’t like me.” She goes to a lonely corner to remove her new gear and prop her bloodied axe in the corner.

Baemalen lifts his eyebrows, smile fading some. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Hoo. It’s like lookin’ in a mirror.” He sags at the sight of the hammocks in the other room. “Some sleep without the threat of death sounds pretty nice, come to think of it.”

Grimory gently shoves him forward. “Go. We’ll wake you if we need you.”

Baemalen smiles tiredly and goes inside to collapse into the only remaining free hammock.

Anarchaia sighs and sets herself in a lone chair near the entryway. “I’ll talk with bronze boy in a minute.”

“Everyone’s settling in for the night. I’m sure you have time.” Jorick sits across the hall from her, back against the stone wall and wrist on a knee.

She nods absently.

Koltira goes to lean against the wall near the mage, his eyes inconspicuously trained on the mercenary. “Not like waiting any amount of time will change his uselessness. May as well just converse with a wall, for all the good it’ll do you.”

Jorick gives the man a tired look, aware of the scrutiny.

Anarchaia shrugs. “Maybe we just need to be nice.” She brings her knees up. “…-er.” She frowns. “I wish I had things to conjure. I don’t think I even have money on me.”

The human shrugs. “I have some. Not much but…some.”

The death knight looks away, studying the shining armor on the floor at Alisbeth’s feet r. His eyes snap to the human and he furrows his brow. “Taveth doesn’t have money, either… And yet.” He motions at the newly purchased items. “Not to mention the book he gave you, Ana. Something doesn’t seem right.”

Anarchaia nods and furrows her brow. “I knocked into him one day. He dropped a scroll with very familiar handwriting on it.”

“Perhaps he has a benefactor with an importance unequal to his demeanor,” Jorick hums and leans his head back against the cool stone.

Koltira folds his arms over his chest. “You think maybe a lord? Some rich asshole paying to have Taveth risk his life for research as they sit safely in Stormwind?”

Anarchaia’s eyes slide up to Koltira. “Yes. A big, sweet, pretty asshole.” She lifts her eyebrows.

“Who said they were sweet? Or pretty?” Koltira blinks down at her. “What? What is it?”

Anarchaia stares at him for a long beat. “A young…blond…important asshole.”

Koltira practically flinches as the realization hits him. “No. I don’t believe it. That’s impossible.”

Jorick gives a breathy chuckle. “The High King? And that wormy guy?”

Anarchaia scowls at them both. “I don’t see what is so preposterous about it. The handwriting, the unexplained riches, the skittering away from the subject when it arises.” She unbuttons her gloves to pull them off. “It’s not like he’s not smart enough for the position.”

~~

The succubus eyes the Illidari as he finds an empty hammock on the other side of the mage. <<Keep your distance and I won’t hurt you. And be quiet, she just got him back to sleep.>>

Baemalen lifts his brows and rolls onto his side. His eyes slide from the infant to the succubus as he pushes his cheek into a bicep. He grins. <<Cute little abomination. What’s his name?>>

<<She named him Bel’theas. Also, you owe my master. I think he should have left you as you were, but… I suppose having _two_ Illidari in his pocket is advantageous. Thal’kiel is teaching him well.>> She turns to make sure Taveth really is asleep and heard none of what she said, then gives the Illidari a dark chuckle.

Baemalen’s grin widens. <<Now that’s not very polite. The succubi back at the temple were always so _hospitable_.>> He notices her gaze wander. <<And don’t worry. I’ll repay him.>>

Tryxora smirks and slinks to the blood elf. <<Oh. You think I’m a pet to any man?>> She leans down and takes his jaw in her fingers tipped with sharp claws. <<We’ll see how useful you are. Then maybe we can play a game.>> She chuckles again. <<Though, you’re not really my type. Might be his, though.>> She sighs wistfully and casts a loving expression to the sleeping high elf. <<Unfortunately.>>

Baemalen’s smile remains through her attempts to intimidate him, but falls the slightest bit when he looks over at the sleeping high elf. <<Oh? Sadly I can’t help with that. I know a guy, though. Big night elf. Super cuddly.>>

The demoness rounds on him. <<He’s mine!>> she snaps. <<I was only willing to _share_ … Maybe.>>

Baemalen blinks, then laughs and turns around in his hammock. <<Whatever you say, Ms. Purple Pants.>>

Th demoness humphs and sticks her nose in the air, then turns away from the man.

~ * ~

Grimory goes to Alisbeth. “You okay?”

She shrugs at first, then looks up at the demon hunter. Her brows push together in worry and sorrow. “I should’ve asked him to change me so I could be pretty for at least a little while. You would’ve liked that, huh?” She turns to unbuckle the cuirass. “I guess just being back here made me think about…a lot of stuff.”

He frowns. “You know I don’t care what you look like. It’d be for you.” He grabs at her arms to stop her from busying herself. “What kind of stuff?”

She shrugs. “Just things. Past things.” She slowly smiles and grabs him in a hug. “You always say the nicest things.”

Grimory gives a weary smile and returns the embrace. “He’s still in there, yeah? You can always ask.”

“But what’s the point of looking alive if I’m not alive?” Alisbeth asks. “He wouldn’t do it, anyway. He’s mean. I don’t like him. Can we get another dragon?”

He chuckles. “Ana seems to be enjoying it.” He sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “But whatever. Let’s relax for a bit, yeah?”

“Do… Do you want me to?” She asks, holding his gaze with her own and ignoring his urges to relax.

Grimory scowls but the kindness in his eyes remains. “It’s not about what I want. Don’t do this to me.”

She frowns and stares at the floor. “Okay.” She returns her attention to removing the armor.

Grimory gives a quiet growl and grabs her again to face him. “What do _you_ want? You don’t need my input to make decisions for yourself, you know.” His face softens. “Do you even know what you want?”

Alisbeth shoves him back. “I can’t _have_ what I want. So it doesn’t matter! None of it matters!”

Tryxora pops her head out the door and shushes the death knight, then closes the door again. The baby’s screams flood from behind, anyway.

Koltira flinches at the shouting from the corner, then grunts at Anarchaia. “I just… How do you think _he_ , of all people, came to know a king? Let alone befriend him?”

Anarchaia narrows an eye up at him. “If I can’t come up with an answer does that make it more unbelievable? Do you have a better guess?”

Jorick shrugs and gives a grin. “Maybe he runs a secret fight club.”

She gives him a look and he chuckles.

Koltira chuckles at the joke and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t put money on Taveth going to a place like that, let alone winning.”

The corners of Anarchaia’s lips tighten and she gets up to go into the next room—the baby’s cries growing louder before again being cut off by the door closing.

~ * ~

Vendormu pulls the book up and away from his face and sighs. “Whelplings don’t cry this much.”

Kel’ori, tired and grouchy, sends a glower Vendormu’s way. “He’s not a whelpling. How about you worry about yourself.”

Vendormu shrugs and lowers the book back over his face.

Kel’ori whimpers as Bel’theas screams, turning his head away from her breast. “What do you want?” She covers herself as the other mage enters. “I don’t understand. He’s just being so fussy.”

Anarchaia fidgets. “Maybe he just needs some mental stimulation?” She holds out a hand, then frowns when a keyring doesn’t appear in it. “Oh. Right.” She goes to Kel’ori’s side. “Do you want me to take him?”

The high elf looks nervously at her son. “Be careful,” she says and lifts her arms to the mage.

Tryxora’s mouth drops open. <<You’ll give him to _her_ and not _me? >>_

“Keep it down a little,” Taveth mumbles. He tries to shift, fails, and immediately falls back asleep.

Anarchaia smiles at the crying baby as she gingerly takes him into her arms. “It’s okay,” she sings, ignoring the clear annoyance of the succubus. “Look.” She wiggles her fingers and a cloud of rainbow-colored smoke swirls around the two.

The baby quiets for only a few seconds before hiccupping into more screams. Anarchaia frowns, then flinches and pulls Bel’theas away from a pair of reaching hands. “Oh. You…want to try?”

Baemalen nods, a patient smile beneath his sunken, tired eyes. “Nothing to lose but more sleep,” he murmurs, then sinks to sit cross-legged on the floor with the child in his arms. He hums softly; an oddly melodic tune that turns into quiet singing in Eredun.

The baby, seemingly enchanted, grows quiet. He claws at the man’s long red tresses and tangles his little fingers in them, the other thumb pressing to his own lips.

Anarchaia’s eyebrows raise. “I… Wow.”

Kel’ori blinks down at the Illidari. “What… How…?”

Tryxora’s upper lip curls. <<I tried that. Why didn’t it work for me?>>

Baemalen cranes his neck back to give the succubus a teasing smile. “Maybe he’s not a fan of well-endowed, pink-skinned demons who aren’t his mother.”

Anarchaia shakes her head, then turns to the dragon seemingly asleep in his own hammock. “You. We’d like some direction if that’s all right with you,” she whispers.

Vendormu groans. “You people are so helpless. My brother seeks to empower the Legion. He’s probably somewhere trying to get rid of their threats.”

She knits her thin white brows. “That’s…surprisingly helpful.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Now let me sleep while that thing is quiet.”

She rolls her eyes and quietly leaves after a small wave to the other two.

~~

When the infant is once again sound asleep, Baemalen stands and extends him back out to Kel’ori. “He’s cute up close.”

Kel’ori bites her lower lip and smiles. “He really is, isn’t he? What is that song you were singing?”

Baemalen hesitates, laughing. “A song about how the universe will eventually bow to Sargeras’ will. Demons are not very romantic.” He turns. “I’m Baemalen, by the way. I’d honestly stay and flirt with you until you hate me, but I’m pretty beat after nearly dying and such. Nice to meet you, miss…?”

The mage’s nose wrinkles. “Please don’t sing those kinds of songs to my son. I don’t want him to be… Sorry. I’m Kel’ori Nightheart. You say you nearly died?”

The infant in her arms whimpers and shifts.

She purses her lips. “Sorry,” she whispers. “Rest while you can. We can catch up later, if you like.”

Baemalen gives a single shoulder shrug. “All their songs are the same, but have it your way.” He makes his way back to his hammock. “Yeah, glasses over there saved me with a soulstone. Taveth. Your brother, I assume? You’ve got the same nose.” He sighs as he gets comfortable again. “Good night, Ms. Nightheart.”

Kel’ori furrows her brow as she looks at the blood elf. “I didn’t know. I… Good night.”

~ * ~

Grimory scowls at the succubus, then immediately turns his head away from the sound of the baby. He lowers his voice. “Then don’t do anything, yeah? If nothing matters, then nothing you do matters, either.”

She purses her lips and just nods, then returns to the buckles on her cuirass.

The demon hunter sighs and pushes her hands away to assist her, his ears pulling back at the sound in the other room.

Alisbeth notices his reaction to the sound and suddenly her own problems seem meaningless. She sets her palms to his cheeks and pulls him close to kiss the tip of his nose. “Let me make it better.”

Grimory thinks for a long while, then nods. “Let’s go outside. We should keep watch. We can look at the stars in the meantime, yeah?” He forces a small smile.

The death knight ignores the last of the gear on her legs and takes Grimory’s hand to lead him outside. She finds a comfy spot and pulls him down beside her. She rests her cheek on his shoulder and frowns up at the stars. “I’m sorry.”

His brow furrows slightly and he shifts to get more comfortable. “Sorry? For what?” He wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Alisbeth frowns and watches the swirling atmospheric gasses covering the stars. “She shouldn’t have kept it.”

Grimory frowns and looks away from the sky to stare into the distance instead. “It’s all right.” He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s…kind of a relief now that it’s born. I don’t know why.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe because now it’s vulnerable? I can still do something about it.” She runs her fingers across his back and sighs her cold breath onto his shoulder.

Grimory purses his lips. “No, Ali.”

“Why not?” she asks. “It’s just another monster. We eliminate them all the time.”

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “You of all people should know that you shouldn’t take someone’s child from them.” He pauses. “And I’m not referring to Diori.”

Alisbeth frowns up at him. “What would make you feel better?”

Grimory shakes his head. “It’s okay, Ali. You don’t have to worry about me. I get over everything eventually anyway, yeah?” _Except her_. He inhales, holds it, then lets it out slowly. “We’ll get used to it.”

She nods. “We will. Maybe.”

~ * ~

Jorick chuckles and shrugs again. “She used to have better humor.”

Koltira shrugs. “Spending too much time with my grouchy ass, I guess.”

He gives a genuine chuckle. “Yeah, you really are the ice to her fire, ain’t ya? No pun intended.”

The death knight shrugs. “Still plenty of fire, though. For the right person.” His lower lids raise in annoyance at the wailing in the next room.

Jorick gives a quick glance to the door down the hall when the wailing stops, then sighs up at Koltira. “Look, friend, I’m not dense. I get what you’re feeling, all right? Practically oozes out ‘a you.” He leans his head back again. “You don’t have to worry about me ‘n her.”

Koltira gives a halfhearted nod, but stays silent, unable to accept the reassurances.

The human lifts his hands in surrender and decides it’s time for him to stop talking. He leans back and folds his arms when Anarchaia returns, closing his eyes.

She looks between the two. “Uhm. Everything okay?”

Koltira nods. “Yeah, it’s fine. Did you get a chance to talk to Vendormu?”

Anarchaia nods. “He thinks the demon hunters may be a target for…our target.” She sinks back into her chair and rests a cheek on the armrest. “We can head toward the temple in the morning.”

“Grim is the only one fit to go inside. Think he can handle it? What about the Grim from this time period?” He lets out a long breath as he thinks. “Could just replace him. I mean, he’s got that enchantment. You could maybe teleport the other one back here. You can teleport here, can’t you?”

She nods. “Yes. Teleportation is just space, not time. I shouldn’t have an issue.” She sighs, staring distantly at the far wall. “We can tell everyone the plan once they’ve recovered.”

Koltira sinks down to sit against the wall. “Hopefully they don’t take too long.” He thinks on it for a moment. “How do we get _you_ into the temple to get him out? Would you rather bring him straight back here, or… We can’t let him see us. Especially not himself.” He stands again and looks around, then goes to the door. “What about this shed out here?”

Anarchaia lifts her head to watch him. “There’s a shed? Probably for weapons. That’s a good idea.” She smiles over at him. “And he didn’t know any of us twenty-three years ago. But yeah, I’d need a disguise. I can hold an illusion for quite some time. Maybe this?” After a swirl of smoke, her body transforms into that of a scantily clad succubus. She sits up and outstretches her arms as though asking for critique.

Koltira chuckles and nods. He goes to the mage and takes her hand. “You should fit right in.”


	7. Chapter 6

Taveth wakes late in the morning, still feeling groggy. He flinches as he’s welcomed by the wails of the distraught infant accompanied by the frustrated begging of Kel’ori for him to calm down through her own tears. He hops out of the hammock and automatically takes the infant. He goes into her bag and finds the clothes Anarchaia had given her.

“Get some sleep,” he mumbles, regarding the dark circles around her eyes. The elf is met in the common area with a flinch from Koltira and a glare from Alisbeth.

“What the hell is that?” Alisbeth asks, one eye scrunched and her nose wrinkled.

Koltira’s brow furrows as he gets his first look at the child. “That… Okay…”

Anarchaia squeezes Koltira’s hand as though she can read his thoughts and is pleading with him to be polite. “At least he’s healthy?”

Koltira narrows an eye at the mage. “Yes. Healthy. Good things.” Without another word, he stands and leaves to escape the din.

She glances at Jorick, still resting against the wall despite the cacophony and scoffs softly. “Still sleeps like the dead.”

The man’s eyebrows raise but his eyes remain closed. “Not these days.”

She flushes. “Oh. S-sorry.” She frowns back at the crying baby in the corner, then looks at the open doorway. She groans apprehensively.

Tryxora appears behind Taveth, a wide grin on her face. <<I can take him!>> she says almost too eagerly.

“It’s fine. I’ve got him.” He sets to changing Bel’theas into a yellow onesie, using a handkerchief as a sort of diaper.

<<I know how to soothe him,>> Tryxora insists.

“I can handle it,” Taveth says, flinching at the screaming in his ear. “I’ve done this before.”

The demoness scowls and folds her arms as she moves to the corner.

Baemalen rubs at an eye as he steps out of the room as well. “Want me to do the thing again?” he says groggily, then turns his head to look at Kel’ori while the door remains open. “Or am I not allowed to?”

Kel’ori sniffs. The corners of her mouth tilt down as she looks at him. “I don’t want him to… But if it calms him down…” She sniffs again, then falls into a series of crying hiccups. “You’re so kind.”

Baemalen’s smile softens at her crying and he closes the door to let her rest. He approaches the warlock and extends his hands. “Need some help? It won’t repay what I owe you, but it’s something.”

Taveth blinks tired eyes at the man. “Owe…me?” He shakes his head. “Why would you owe me anything? And, really, I helped raise my little sister. I’ve got this handled…” He flinches as Bel’theas’s screams raise in pitch and volume. “Mostly,” he shouts.

Baemalen eases the baby from Taveth’s arms despite being virtually denied. “I also helped raise my sister.” He sits. “Granted she didn’t prefer Ereduni victory arias, but you do what you can when it’s just the two of you.” He hums a tune similar to the one from the previous night and the baby grows quiet but continues to fuss.

Taveth blinks blearily at the Illidari. “How.” He lets out an annoyed sigh. “Do we have breakfast? Oh, who am I kidding. Of course we don’t have breakfast. Would you like me to go get some?” He asks the two other living beings in the room.

Anarchaia and Jorick give one another a look. “A-actually, the two if us could go to Honor Hold and grab some supplies? They’d let us in,” the woman says.

“We could stop on our way,” Jorick agrees, standing. He groans in pain as he stretches. “Awful position to sleep in. What was I thinking?”

The mage hums a laugh. “Maybe they have canes in Honor Hold, too.”

Jorick points at her, unamused. “You shut your face. Not all of us can be graced with everlasting beauty.”

Taveth nods absently. “Oh, you have gold? If you insist.”

“Some.” Jorick sets to fixing his hair in what little he can see of himself in an old vase. “But I can get more.”

Taveth absently combs his fingers through his hair as he nods at the human. “Oh. Okay. If you have it covered, then. Good. That’s good.”

~ * ~

Grimory, still outside, scowls at the sky and slowly opens his eyes at the noise coming from the doorway.

Koltira notices the demon hunter outside, purses his lips, and goes to him. “Outside is a fantastic choice. The lungs on that…” He clears his throat. “So, how was your night?”

Grimory gives Koltira a tired look. “Quiet.”

Alisbeth comes running out a moment later with meat rashers gripped in her fists. “I found you food! Good thing you didn’t go in there, cause, oh _man_ that thing is—”

“Healthy,” Koltira says, using Anarchaia’s kinder assessment.

The other death knight gives him a stink-eye. “You’re just trying to avoid calling it what it is.” She drops down by Grimory and shoves the meat at him. “Eat.”

He leans his head away, then takes a couple to chew on. “Healthy?” he says with a sudden curiosity. “That’s…great. Good.”

Alisbeth giggles sardonically. “Sure. Healthy is _so great_ when it looks like…that.”

Koltira clears his throat again. “So, to change the subject, Ana and I have a plan. Once things quiet in there, we can go inside and go over them. Oh, and Taveth is awake. Looks only half-alive.”

Grimory nods while he chews. “Also good.” He stands when the racket inside subsides, brushing the dust from his backside. “Sooner better than later.” He makes for the door but hesitates just outside. _Go. Let’s see our son_ , a voice in the front of his mind grumbles. He scowls, yet finds he cannot step over the threshold. “I-I’ll hang back, yeah?”

Koltira sets two firm pats on the demon hunter’s shoulder. “I understand your stress. But just remember, you can’t avoid him forever.”

Alisbeth sneers at Koltira and buries herself against Grimory’s back. “Yes, he can.”

“Yes, I can,” the demon hunter says nearly in tandem with Alisbeth. He shakes his head. “We’ll be out here once everyone’s gathered and ready. No need to go over the plan with me. I’ll just follow wherever, yeah?”

Koltira purses his lips and takes a deep breath. “You _are_ the plan. It’s best if you hear it.” He goes inside and leans against the wall.

Alisbeth scowls. “Want me to see if the coast is clear?”

Grimory sighs, losing some of his stony demeanor once Koltira has gone. “No. He’s right.” He steels himself for a long moment, then steps inside. His eyes immediately settle on Baemalen, then the infant in his arms. He clears his throat. “What’s the plan?”

Anarchaia sits up in her chair. “Oh. Grim. We’re going to kidnap you.” She brings a hand to her mouth, suddenly remembering the other Illidari in the room. “Uhm. So to speak. Heh. We have to go to the temple.”

Grimory nods. “All right. I can lead the way.”

Koltira nods to the demon hunter and leans against the wall. “You and Ana—”

“And me!” Alisbeth shouts.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Ali, n—”

“ _I’m going with Grim!_ ” She kicks at Koltira’s leg.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Just wear your helmet or something. Maybe have Ven give you an illusion.” He eyes the other Illidari, unsure how to phrase the plan. “We need you to go to the Black Temple and…retrieve…” He nonchalantly motions at Grimory. “Then Ana will port _you_ back here. We have it on good authority there may be a plot against Illidan. We’ll need you to gather intel so we can prevent it.”

Grimory nods, but an anxiety gnaws at the back of his mind when Alisbeth insists on coming along. “That makes sense. I’ll see what I can do.” He motions out the door, clearly uncomfortable. “We’ll wait outside for you, Ali.”

Jorick follows the mage and demon hunter outside. “So, Honor Hold on the way?”

Anarchaia nods. “It’ll take a long time to get to the valley from here. Days. We’ll need lots of supplies for Grim and yourself. And Taveth if he wants to come.”

Baemalen blinks and tilts his head slightly as Grimory retreats outside. He looks up at Taveth. “Something happen? He seems different since I left. Grumpier.” He scrambles to hum again when Bel’theas starts to fuss again.

Taveth grits his teeth in a grimace. “What? Grumpier? I-I don’t know— You know, I think I should join them. A scholar would come in handy. Excuse me!” He grabs his satchel and rushes out the door. “He’s asking questions. I didn’t answer.”

Alisbeth sneers at the infant. “Awful.” The succubus shoves her out the door.

<<You stay away from Bel!>>

Koltira’s eyelids lower. “It’s a whole party, now. Yay.”

Taveth clears his throat. “How is this going to work? I mean, Ana is a bit conspicuous, no?”

Anarchaia smiles. “Oh, I have a pla—”

Grimory perks and turns. “No, Tav should stay. Someone has to watch over Bae and Kel and the dragon isn’t a trustworthy candidate.” He looks at Alisbeth. “And Koltira is right. Perhaps you _should_ go ask to have him change you if you’re coming to the temple with me, yeah?”

The high elf frowns and sputters. “I— But—” He whines and motions helplessly at the area and his bag. “Research?”

Alisbeth deflates, her shoulders sagging. She stomps unenthusiastically into the building and to the room where her cousin is sleeping and the aspect is lazing in another hammock. “They said to make me look alive. Can you…do that?”

Vendormu, without even opening an eye, lifts a hand. “Sure can.” In a swirl of light, ebon seeps into Alisbeth’s hair and her skin blossoms into a healthy peach. Her eyes are restored and now glow faintly instead of flurrying with blizzard-like energy. “You’re welcome.”

Koltira folds his arms. “I agree. Taveth should stay. Your sister isn’t in any condition to—”

“I can heal her! Then I can go?” He whimpers and directs his pleading gaze to the mage. “Research…”

Anarchaia lifts her brows and looks around herself as though he could be addressing someone else. “Why am I in charge? You think my command overrules theirs?”

“You make your own decisions in the end, Tav,” Grimory grumbles. “But if you get in trouble you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Thank you,” Alisbeth says. She pauses at the sound of her voice. She turns and bumps into Taveth on her way out of the room.

He smiles. “There’s the Ali from my memories.”

She purses her lips at him, ducks her head, and leaves the room. He sighs and goes to Kel’ori.

Alisbeth goes to the corner and begins putting on her armor. She glances at Baemalen, then focuses on the buckles of her gear. Taveth returns and waits for her to finish.

“All set?”

“Yeah…l-let’s go.” She scrunches her nose at her voice, having trouble recognizing it, then shoves her helm over her head.

Baemalen furrows his brow ever so slightly, then winces as one of his long locks is pulled by tiny grasping hands; he gives a flirty grin as though it hadn’t just happened. “How many people can you all fit in this place? Need some help?”

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow at the elf. “I’ve got it.” She scrunches her nose. “Have fun. Alone. With _that_. Bye Baelfire!”

“Okay. Can we go now?” Koltira demands.

“I told Kel the plan. She’s feeling much better and will be waiting for you, Ana.”

Anarchaia nods. “Okay. Just waiting on Alisbeth, then.”

She runs out to meet the others. “I’m ready!”

Koltira blinks at Alisbeth, his features softening somewhat at her appearance. “Let’s go, then.”

Taveth follws near the back as he double checks his pen, ink, books, and dagger.

Anarchaia gives a small, somewhat reserved smile. “To Honor Hold for a brief moment, then off we go. Grim for sure will have to hang back. Not sure about the rest of you, besides Jorick.”

“I’m Quel’dorei,” the Illidari grumbles in response.

“Yeah but you got the short end of the Alliance mercy stick when you were born with green eyes,” the mage responds sharply with an impatient smile.

Grimory rolls said eyes before stopping to give Alisbeth a once over. He smiles. “Just like I remember.”

Alisbeth fidgets. “I don’t feel any different.” She sighs. “I’ll have to stay out, too. And no one here has seen a death knight before, so Koltira can’t…” She goes quiet when he looks back at her.

He clears his throat. “That’s fine. I’m sure the humans have it under control.”

“And me,” Taveth says. “I’ll be going in as well.”

Anarchaia also glances at Koltira. “Unless you still want to get an illusion, too. Last chance before we leave?” She shrugs and gives a nervous titter.

Koltira pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Fine.” He disappears inside.

Taveth blinks after him. Alisbeth opens her mouth to say something, but remains silent instead. A moment later, Koltira returns with the same bland expression on his face and no apparent changes to his features.

“Did he refuse?” Taveth asks.

“Oh, no, he went ahead and did it,” Koltira says.

Alisbeth giggles and pokes his cheek. “Your cheeks aren’t as sunken.”

He purses his lips at her. “Yeah. Such a change. Let’s go.”

She giggles as he shoves past the others to lead the way.

“Any more great ideas?” he asks, not waiting for the others to follow or reply.

Anarchaia’s lips curl into a small smile, then fall into a frown as he pushes past. “…no,” she responds and follows the death knight and demon hunter off toward the stronghold in the distance.

When the group arrives, Grimory regards the two humans. “We’ll definitely need some healing potions if they have some. Otherwise you’ll have to make do with bandages and salves.”

“Right,” Anarchaia says in a flat tone. “Anything else?” she looks at the others expectantly.

“Within reason,” Jorick adds with an apprehensive smile.

Alisbeth nods, then shakes her head. “I don’t think they have elf helms.”

“I’m joining,” Taveth says. “I need a few things and I’d rather pick them out myself.” He again lifts the hood of the borrowed cloak to hide his ears.

The humans nod and lead Taveth inside after leaving the elves some distance from the entrance. Once safely past the guards and inside, Jorick gives Anarchaia a sideways glance. “You look ecstatic.”

She looks up at him and realizes just how she must look by the pain between her eyebrows. “I’m fine.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like I’m going to fall for that a six hundredth time.” He sighs, the smile on his face fading. “I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she insists and puts on a fake smile for the first aid vendor. The woman hands her a small satchel of potions and salves and the mage holds out her hand to the man beside her.

“Okay, six hundred and _first_ time.” He hands over the gold in his coin purse—nearly all of it. “Are you happy with that guy?”

Anarchaia pauses and turns to give him a look of impatience.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he’s quick to correct. “I don’t want you to leave him. I just want you to be treated right.”

Anarchaia’s face softens and she gently pushes past him for the food stall. “I’m fine,” she says a third time, this time softer. “He’s not always like that.”

“If he’s like that ever it’s kind of shitty,” Jorick says on another sigh.

“ _Shitty_ like you drinking too much and getting into a fight with anything that can fight back?”

He stops as though he’s been struck. “Th-that…was…”

Anarchaia sighs and shakes her head. “A long time ago. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looks up at him for a brief moment, wear in her icy eyes. “I can handle myself.” She turns back to the vendor who’s patiently waiting for payment.

“Right. Of course you can.” With a strained smile, he gives the man payment for the rations, takes the supply, and turns back for the entrance.

Taveth’s lower eyelids raise as he listens to Jorick. He slips away to purchase his own items, plus extra food, then slips back in behind the two to find them still discussing the death knight. He lets out a heavy sigh instead of getting involved.

Outside the gates, Alisbeth jumps up and down, waving her arms in the air as though they can’t already see her.

Koltira nods as they approach. “All set? Get enough food for the living?”

Taveth nods while scrawling a quick message in his book in the distant hope that it will be mirrored to the book’s twin in the future.

“Did you get me some whisky?” Alisbeth asks, reaching into their packs to snoop.

Both Jorick and Anarchaia pull their bags away as though needlessly defensive. “No,” the latter says, taking both bags and sending them back to their hideout in a flurry of sparkles. “Just the necessities.” She turns for the tall ridge in the distance.

Grimory’s lips tighten at their behavior, but he decides he doesn’t care enough to comment. He takes Alisbeth’s hand and follows.

She bounces beside the Illidari. “Are you excited? You get to see your old home. What does it look like? Is it big? Are there lots of demons? Can I slap _this_ Illidan!?!”

Taveth holds out a cloth sack to Anarchaia. “Can you send this back as well? In a place Kel will find it, preferably?”

Anarchaia nods and takes the bundle. Without a word she sends it back to the outpost.

Grimory gives her a smile. “Sort of. It’s huge and stone. Yes. Yes. No. In that order.” He pulls her shoulder into himself to keep her from bouncing. “Illidan didn’t show his face too much to us until after initiation. You probably won’t see him.”

“How long is the walk?” Alisbeth asks.

“A day or two,” the demon hunter says. “We have to make our way through Terokkar. Tav will have a lot to sketch. Giant moths and trees.”

Taveth smiles. “I look forward to seeing it in person. I’m sure the sketches in books don’t do any of the scenery justice.”

“What did you send back for Kel?” Alisbeth asks, wrapping her hand around Grimory’s on her shoulder. She grins up at him.

“Diapers. Wash cloths. Things she’ll need.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thankful,” Koltira comments from the back. “That was kind of you.”

Taveth turns a shy smile on the death knight.

“What did you guys grab?” Grimory says to the two humans.

It takes a moment for Anarchaia to realize she’s been addressed, but before she can answer, Jorick does for her.

“What you told us to get.” He gives the demon hunter a grin with a raised eyebrow. “And food. And I swiped this.” He waves a rolled-up piece of parchment.

Anarchaia turns to furrow her brow at him. “ _Swiped?_ ”

“A map,” he says, avoiding the implication.

Alisbeth squirms free of the demon hunter to reach for the map. “I wanna see it!” She scrambles around the human as he thwarts her attempts.

“A map? Regardless of the surely illicit means of procurement, I’m sure it’ll come in handy,” Koltira says.

The other death knight giggles. “You sound like a nerd.”

“Too much time around me, perhaps?” Taveth says, grinning in a silly manner.

Koltira lowers his eyelids at the two.

Jorick holds the paper high and, despite being shorter than the death knight and Illidari, is able to keep it away. He gives Anarchaia a charming grin. “What?”

“ _Illicit procurement_ ,” she repeats.

“You stole booze all the time,” Grimory says, then gives a snarky smile when she whips around.

“I paid for it eventually!”

“One little map is no skin off their nose. Besides, you sort of bled me dry with the other supplies.” Jorick shrugs.

“I could have…” Taveth stops and instead begins sketching out the Hellfire Citadel ahead of them.

Alisbeth jumps onto Jorick’s back. “Just a peek!”

“So,” Koltira says over the squealing death knight, “ideas to occupy our time as we travel?”

Jorick stumbles, then submits when he realizes he cannot pry her off. He stuffs the map into his cuirass and smirks. “Nope. No peeking. Mine. Stole it fair and square.”

Grimory rolls his eyes and swallows his jealousy. “I spy something red.”

“Everything,” Anarchaia says blandly.

“Bingo. Ana wins.”

Alisbeth unceremoniously reaches into the man’s shirt to search for the parchment. “I dunno. It’s kind of more orangey than red.”

Koltira strides past to reach Anarchaia. He leans close, a hand at the small of her back. “I spy something beautiful,” he whispers.

Jorick flushes lightly and grabs the woman’s wrist to keep her from digging further. “Hey, now. Not even going to buy me dinner, first?”

Grimory folds his arms and purses his lips. “Orange is kind of like red. But with yellow.”

Anarchaia jumps a little, knocked out of her pensive state. She flushes a bit and smiles faintly. “O-oh.” She turns her head to look behind herself, then back. “Jorick? Beautiful isn’t the word I’d use. Heh.”

Koltira narrows his eyes down at the mage. “You take that blasphemy right back.”

Alisbeth stops and blinks at the man. “All my money is in Dalaran in the future. And I don’t think any of these places serve dinner.” She motions with her free hand at the broken buildings.

“Wouldn’t your money exist somewhere in the past, too?” Taveth asks.

She hops down from the human and goes to hug her cousin. “Genius! We just have to figure out where I kept it.” She thinks a moment, then groans aloud. “I think it was in Lordaeron. And Silvermoon. And Stormwind. And… No, I think that’s it.”

The human man chuckles but cannot help overhearing the conversation in front of them. He shrugs it off and turns back to Alisbeth. “You’ll have a hell of a time getting it all back, then. Probably making wishes with it in a fountain of green ooze right now.”

Anarchaia smiles crookedly. “Well geez, if you really think he’s _that_ pretty…” She gives him a coy look before looking back ahead.

Koltira shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. You?”

Alisbeth sneers and folds her arms. “I got it back. A few years from now. When I went to Northrend.”

Taveth blinks at the distance between party members and frowns. He clears his throat. “I spy something white and beautiful.” He smiles at the back of the mage’s head.

“Bones!” Alisbeth shouts.

His frown returns. “N-no. I didn’t—”

“Okay, but, bones.” She points down at the skulls and various bones of draenei paving a massive path to the citadel.

“Oh… That’s…”

“Beautiful!”

“Sickening…is the word…” He begins to sketch it anyway.

Anarchaia looks down at the bones, then catches Taveth’s eye and meaning. She flushes again and gives a sheepish smile. “I spy a liar,” she says quietly and turns back away.

“I spy someone who can never take a compliment,” Jorick says, giving the mage’s shoulder a small shake.

Grimory gives his reflection a glance in the human’s armor. “I spy someone who shouldn’t have suggested this game.”

Alisbeth jumps back to the demon hunter and hugs him. “But it’s a fun game! I spy something…” She looks up in the sky and furrows her brow. “Red? Hm…” She stares at the road, lost in thought.

Taveth looks up, squinting at the distant image of a cluster of dragonhawks of all colors. He looks back at her but decides to say nothing.

Grimory chuckles. “I already did that one. Copycat.”

Jorick points ahead at an incoming caravan. “Do red orcs count?”

Alisbeth shakes her head and smiles. “Did what?” She jolts to attention. “Nope! Run! bad orcs, _bad orcs!_ ” She grabs Grimory’s hand trying to yank him off the path.

Not needing to be told twice, Taveth rushes down the embankment.

Anarchaia gives Koltira an unimpressed look, then perks at the mention of orcs. On reflex, she grabs his hand and pulls him down the slope with the others.

Grimory sighs. “Well I guess a detour isn’t the worst thing in the world—” He scowls at the mercenary as he’s shushed.

The orc party passes by on the overhang above, the chains on their wolf companions rattling as they laugh at one another’s stories. The one at the end stops and gives a wary glance around himself. <<You smell that?>>

<<Like we’re falling for that again,>> one of the others scoffs.

<<No. Smells like…elf.>>

A silence passes. <<Right. Like the last time you smelt elf? Or the time before that when you tried to lead us to a draenei camp? And it turned out to be a worg den and Fulmar was eaten?>>

Another silence passes.

<<Yeah. Let’s keep going. It’s getting late.>>


	8. Chapter 7

Kel’ori glances at the aspect as she sits up, testing the potency of the healing. “I’m hungry. Do you have any food?”

“Yes,” the dragon says simply. “Do you like raw rabbit? We love it.”

She sneers. “Uh, no. I’ll just…starve.” She gingerly hops from the hammock and searches through her bag for leftover snacks.

He watches for a short while before sitting up and sighing. He extends a hand and a small assortment of meats and fruit appears on the barrel near Kel’ori in a swirl of golden light. He leans back again and opens his book.

She blinks at the food, then goes to start picking at it. “Thank you.”

Vendormu gives a slight nod. “Don’t say I never did anything for you. Does your babysitter want any?”

Kel’ori goes to the main area and holds out her hands to take the dozing infant. “Come. There’s food in the other room.” She smiles kindly at him.

Baemalen perks as the baby is taken from him, then gives a wide grin. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve eaten for three days.” He chuckles and stands, throwing his hair back over his shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Kel’ori smiles as she leads him back. “It’s the least I can do. You didn’t have to help Bel and me,” she sets her nose to the baby’s and smiles brighter, “but you did. And without looking at him funny or making cruel comments.” She glances back at the succubus following them. “Or being overbearing.”

He takes a piece of bread with jam and stuffs its entirety in his mouth. He smiles with a full cheek. “Well I’d be just a _swell_ person if I didn’t help you. What kind of monster doesn’t help a pretty girl with a cute little baby?” He reaches for another slice. “…demon baby. Cute all the same.”

She blushes as she sits on a crate of questionable sturdiness and uses her free hand to pick at the assortment of foods. “No need to flatter. But thank you. Bel'theas is only half demon, luckily.” She looks at the man across from her. “Tell me about yourself.”

Baemalen jumps as a bundle of supplies appears in the corner of the room. He shrugs and turns back to Kel’ori, then takes an apple and takes a small, pensive bite before setting his elbow on the table and giving her a once over. “I’ll tell you what. You tell me about that anomaly of a baby of yours and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Kel’ori’s smile falls and she looks away. After a moment, she wipes her free palm on her skirt. She clears her throat and opens her mouth to answer, then closes it. She clears her throat and opens her mouth again. “N-not much to tell. The…pregnancy was fast. I craved meat. He was born yesterday. I wasn’t supposed to be here, but…” she glances at the dragon aspect lazing in the hammock, “someone made a mistake and brought me here.” She gives a nervous laugh and pops some cheese into her mouth. “Your turn.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “That’s fine if you don’t want to say, but you could have just said it, y’know.” He inspects the apple in his hand. “Not much to say about me, either. Parents died shortly after my baby sister Chassandra was born. Lived in an orphanage in Silvermoon until I was old enough to leave. But she was adopted out long before then. So here I am with no other purpose but to be a coward.” His eyes soften but his smile remains. “I just hope she’s happy. Wherever she is.”

She flinches some. “I-… It’s not you. I don’t like to talk about it. Ever. I just want it to have never happened…” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sure your sister is probably happy. Until you know for sure, just imagine her that way.”

Baemalen nods. “I suppose I can relate. I think everyone has those things they just don’t want to relive.” He smiles wider at the thought of his sister. “That’s pretty much all I can do.” He takes another bite. “So, I don’t think I had time to meet all your friends. Besides Grim, that is.”

Kel’ori smiles. “Oh, uh, the one in the red robes is Anarchaia; the male death knight is Koltira; my brother, you said helped you; and the other death knight is Alisbeth, my cousin. I don’t remember that other guy’s name. This, of course, is Bel'theas,” she brushes back the small tuft of blonde hair between his knobby horns and the infant moans in his sleep. She jerks her thumb at the man in the hammock. “And that is… Honestly between the time travel and the sudden labor, I forgot your name.” She frowns apologetically at Vendormu.

He shrugs. “Not important.”

Baemalen lifts his eyebrows and leans forward to whisper loudly. “That guy’s not very kind.”

The dragon gives him a small sneer.

Kel’ori gives a short nod. “I’m sure there’s a _reason_ for it. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, but…” She wrinkles her nose at the dragon.

Vendormu gives the mage a wink and a mocking grin.

Baemalen tilts his head. “Where are you meant to be?” he asks through a cheek of apple.

Kel’ori purses her lips and shifts the food in her mouth to one side so she can answer. “Dalaran. With my midwife, Docra. She was protecting me from… Well, everyone. My father tried to terminate my pregnancy. According to her, my cousin did, too. Not many people are as kind about Bel as you and her.” She swallows her food and gives him a bright smile. “Thank you.”

After she’s had her fill, Kel’ori gently lays Bel'theas in her hammock, then goes to look inside the sack in the corner. She changes the infant into one of the diapers, then swings the hammock back and forth to get him back to sleep.

“I think it’s time to clean up after the…probably orcs who lived here before. Excuse me.”

With energy unfitting a new mother, she searches around the small building and exclaims when she finds a small closet with a broom, mop, and broken bucket. She sets to work sweeping the main area first, to avoid stirring up dirt where the baby is sleeping and the Illidari is eating. As she works, she begins to hum little tunes.

Baemalen lifts his eyebrows as he watches her work. When he finishes, he stands and takes the mop bucket. “I’ll help. I’m sure there’s a well outside.” He smiles and wanders out the door in search of one.

The two work to clean the outpost as best they can, discovering windows coated by grime. Kel’ori gives a hesitant snap of her fingers and the windows to the main area fling open to let in the cool evening breeze. She screams and laughs happily. The sound causes a gentle crying to emanate from the barracks. The elf takes Bel'theas and wraps him in a papoose Taveth had sent, subtly feeding the baby while she goes out to inspect the shed.

“We’ll need chains. A bucket. And to clean all of these weapons out,” she thinks aloud.

He blinks from behind his ivory cup of water. “Chains? Are we going to play a game?” He gives a sultry but humored smile. “If this hut has a basement, I’m willing to bet there’s some there.” He lowers a brow at her behavior. “You doing all right?”

Kel’ori turns her own humorous sultry smile on the Illidari. “Are you saying you like dungeons?” She laughs and closes the shed door, then squints an eye at it. “This is a terrible place to keep someone.” She turns to search the area for a cellar door. “I’m great, actually. That, uh, warlock stuff of my brother’s just picked me right up. Better than new. Then again I’ve been sleeping like the dead for a good two weeks thanks to—ow!” She purses her lips and lightly pinches Bel'theas’s leg. After a quick sigh, she continues. “Besides, this place was a _mess_. The hammock room is next, for sure. All of those need a good wash. Just not while Bel is in the room. Far too much dust.”

Baemalen slowly furrows his brow upward his grin growing nervous as he follows her into the dark cellar. The wooden steps creak threateningly. “And, uh…who are we chaining up exactly?”

“For Grim,” Kel’ori says, then stops. She lights a fire in her palm and turns around, her face grave. “They…didn’t tell you the plan… Did they…”

His eyes widen some and he looks at her through the darkness. “Okay, I wasn’t going to ask, but I’m pretty sure I have some questions.”

She glances around as though looking for a diversion. “I’m…not sure I’m allowed to tell you anything.”

He slowly wraps a loose chain around his arm, the bulk of it uncoiling from within a barrel. “We aren’t going to hurt him, are we? I mean, I’m all for pranks, but…”

Kel’ori watches him coil the chain almost apprehensively, a small tingle at the back of her mind setting her on edge. “N-not a prank, but not to hurt him, no. Just…he can’t see any of us. The darkness is good. Um…” She rushes past him into the sunlight and sighs in relief but waits for her heart to stop pounding.

Baemalen purses his lips. He shakes his head and follows her up the stairs. He sets the chains outside the door to the shed. “Okay, the more suspicious you act the more I think you’re all doing something bad. And I’m not about bad.” He blinks. “I mean, I’m certainly not about good, either, but dammit I try.”

She turns to him, her face pale as she takes steadying breaths. _It’s not a cave. He’s not Grim._ “Sorry, I didn’t mean to— It’s nothing bad. I promise. It’s good. I mean, Grim won’t like it, but he’s the one who agreed to it, so he doesn’t really get a choice in the matter.” She looks down at Bel'theas. “Time to go back in the hammock, huh, sleepy?” She gives Baemalen a shaky smile and turns to go inside.

He notices a familiarity in her behavior and abandons the chains to go to her side. He sets a gentle yet cautious hand on her elbow before she can leave. “Hey, hold on. You okay? Sorry if I said something offensive. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

The mage stares at his hand, then at him. “I’m f—…” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I thought I was over it, but I guess I just…freaked out. It was the darkness. And…you. But not you. Now I sound insane. Would you like a glass of water?” She turns to head inside again.

Baemalen runs his tongue over his lips in thought, then smiles and nods. “Yeah. Sure. You sound like you need one, too.” He follows and pours two cups from the metal flagon set near the food, then hands her one and sets himself in his unofficially assigned hammock. He inspects himself in the reflection of the water for a short while. His smile grows somber. “I think I know what you’re going through. And I just want you to know that it gets better.”

Kel’ori finishes putting Bel'theas in the hammock and accepts the water. She studies him as she drinks. “Do you, though? I mean…” She shrugs and plays with the lip of the glass. “I have more good days than bad lately. Just that’s the first…dark, damp place. Sound of the chains.” She pauses uncertainly. “Your sister… She got better?” she whispers.

He opens his mouth a time or two. His eyes flick from the woman, to the aspect, to the floor. He swallows and smiles. “Y-yeah. Obviously, she’ll always have those memories, but sh—…she got better. Heh.”

She smiles and nods, her eyes drifting to the water in her hands. “I’m glad. Really. I wish I could talk to her. Maybe it would help.” She sets the glass on the barrel and lifts the infant so she can sit in the hammock and cradle him. “Today just wore me out. Maybe tomorrow I can get that cellar looked to. They said it would be a couple days, at least. Longer. How about you?”

Baemalen nods. “Yeah, it probably would help.” He stands after draining his cup. “I’ll go clear the cellar out myself. You don’t have to worry about it.” He smiles and heads for the door. “If you need anything just holler.”

Kel’ori shakes her head. “No, you don’t have to. It’s getting dark. I can handle it tomorrow. I have to go down there eventually, anyway. Strict orders.” She purses her lips at the dragon aspect. “As I said, I’m not sure what I’m allowed to say.”

He stops in the doorway. “That’s fine,” he says without turning. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m just going to get some fresh air, then, if you have your pretty little heart set on cleaning the cellar.”

“ _Wait!_ Um…” She retracts her outstretched hand. “Can you…maybe get some firewood? We can start a fire in the living room’s fireplace. Keep the four of us warm?”

The blood elf nods and smiles as he turns. “You got it. Back in a flash.” He steps out into the foyer then out into the cold night air. His smile fades as he pushes his hair back and makes for the back of the building where the firewood is kept.

“Working that boy like a dog,” Vendormu muses from behind his book.

Kel’ori’s face falls. She hops out of the hammock and sets Bel'theas back into it. “It was only a suggestion, since he was going out _anyway._ But _fine._ Not like I even asked him to help me. I’ll just do it myself. _You_ keep an eye on my baby, and I swear to gods if anything happens to him while I’m gone—” She snatches the book from his hands and glares into his eyes, then disappears from the room with a quiet _pop!,_ reappearing at the neat wood pile against the back of the outpost, his book still gripped in her angry fist.

Baemalen jerks out of his stupor, still standing with his arms full of wood. He scrambles to compose himself, a smile instantly popping back onto his face. “O-oh! You’re a mage. Haha. That’s neat. I can handle this myself. You don’t need to help.”

She waves a hand to lift the logs from his arms. “No. I should do it myself. The ass dragon says so. I shouldn’t have…used you.” She sighs a long breath and blinks at his bare torso. “Let’s get you in out of the cold.” She holds out her hand for him, her book hand raised to keep the wood aloft.

He looks down at her hand before taking it. “…ass dragon?” he says with a slightly concerned look in his eye.

Kel’ori laughs. “The dragon. He’s an asshole. Says I’m working you too hard. So…let me apologize with a nice fire. Maybe we can find something to make a hot meal?”

Inside the outpost building she sets the wood aside, then drops two logs into the fireplace. She conjures a ball of fire, then throws it on the logs, which crackle to life as it consumes them.

“Like I never lost my abilities,” she hums.

From the room down the hall, Bel'theas’s screaming cries echo down to her.

“What did he do,” she grouches, and heads that way.

Baemalen blinks as a number of questions swirl through his mind. He follows Kel’ori to find Vendormu bent over the hammock with a sparkling orb of glowing white light.

The dragon makes a face as he’s pushed aside. “Filthy demons have no love for good magic.” He folds his arms.

“You’re a dragon?” the Illidari inquires over the wailing.

Vendormu gives Kel’ori another look, this time of irritation. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and goes ridged. Her hands ball into fists at her sides as her chin quivers. At the moment she bursts into tears, her hand springs up to strike with all the force she can muster across his cheek. “You bastard! He’s not a filthy demon, you sorry excuse for a dragon! He’s good. He’s _good!_ ” She scoops the screaming infant into her arms and wraps her arms protectively around him, as though at any moment Vendormu might harm him. “You’re the only monster in this room.” She storms out to the living room, not even trying to contain her loud sobs.

Both Baemalen and the aspect look at one another, wide eyed. Vendormu rubs at his stinging cheek as the elf scurries awkwardly to the door.

“Heh. Baby moods?” he shrugs and closes the door behind him. “You all right? What a jerk, eh? Haha.”

Kel’ori sits on the floor by the fire, trying to calm both herself and Bel'theas, and failing. She shakes her head. “He won’t be like those demons. Those awful creatures who hurt without thinking and take what they want, no matter the cost to anyone else.” She uses her magic to lift Vendormu’s book and toss it into the fire. “He’s not _filthy_. He’s not _evil_. He’s going to be _good_.”

Baemalen hesitates before striding over and sinking to his knees at her side. “I think so,” he says with a hand on her shoulder. “There are actually a couple demons at the temple who I would classify as _good_ ,” he reassures with a gentle smile. “Nurture over nature.”

The mage takes a deep breath as she rocks Bel'theas side to side. “I just don’t want him to be like that monster,” she whispers.

Baemalen’s hand slides to her back where he gently runs it up and down. “I’m sure you’ll be a great mother. You’re already so protective and want the best for him.”

She sniffs and wipes her eyes as Bel'theas’s crying turns into little whimpers. “Thank you. Really. You’re so kind.” She scoffs. “That idiot probably just frightened him. Did you see how bright that light was? And why is he so concerned about you knowing he’s a dragon? Who are you gonna tell?” She pauses and gives him a wary look. “You’re not a spy, are you?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “If I were a spy, I’d be a pretty bad one, wouldn’t I?”

She laughs a little. “I mean, gaining my trust so I tell you our secrets isn’t being a bad spy.” She thinks on it as she bites the skin of her lower lip. “I’d rather you not be a spy. You’re not like the others. All of them. They all hate my baby because of what he is. And it sounds crazy, but I’m so afraid that Grim might try to kill him. Or Ali, because she’s so devoted. I think she’d do anything for him.” She wipes her nose and forces a smile. “Ugh, sorry. Being a downer.” She leans her head on his shoulder for a quick moment. “Thank you.”

Baemalen’s brow knits some and he pats her hand comfortingly. “It’s nothing. And I know Grim is an Illidari, but I doubt he’d kill a baby. No matter how demonic. Not sure about…Ali, was it?”

Kel’ori shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not because…” She sighs and stares at the flickering fire as it consumes the pages of the book one at a time as they’re exposed. “It’s a long story. Maybe not _long_. But… What’s it like? Being a demon hunter. I mean, you’re an Illidari, right?” She turns to look at him as though she might be able to see his demon in his face.

Baemalen, familiar with giving the run around, gives her a sideways glance and smiles. “Technically. Just not initiated. But trained.” His smile grows somber. “I’m sure Donnie is by now, though. He’s a tough one.”

“What does it mean to not be initiated? Who’s Donnie?” Kel’ori smiles encouragingly, glad to be off the subject of Grimory’s feelings toward her child.

Bel'theas gives a little yawn and stretches his arms upward. The mage stops to watch in wonder, her heart filling until she smiles brighter and cries happy tears.

“He’s so beautiful. I love him so much.” She laughs after the moment is over. “Sorry. Please, go ahead.”

Baemalen waits for her to collect herself again, a patient smile on his face. “No worries. It just means that I’m a coward. I don’t have the soul or powers of a demon, just the training to kill one. Eldon is a friend of mine. We were recruited at the same time.” He offers his finger to the infant, then quickly pulls it away before Bel'theas can pull it into his mouth. “But I doubt he misses me much. Or Illy.”

“No demon soul?” Kel’ori’s eyebrows raise as she looks him over. She laughs lightly. “That makes me feel _so_ much better. You may think you’re a coward, but…” she shakes her head and looks around the room, then at him, “not having that other being inside you…that could take control at any moment when your guard is down. You could lose control in an instant and hurt the ones close to you.” She gently pats his hand resting on his thigh. “I barely know you, but I think people would miss you. I think I would, if I were to go back tomorrow. There’s just something so… You have a good heart and soul.”

Baemalen’s eyebrows raise slightly and a slight flush tints his cheeks. “O-oh. That’s…kind of you. I can’t say I agree but I’ll accept your compliment all the same.” He gives an uncomfortable chuckle. “And only the weak Illidari can’t control their demons. Those ones usually die, anyway. Problem kind of takes care of itself. Heh.”

Kel’ori’s smile fades, then returns, but strained. “I’m…sure there’s…exceptions. Maybe one just happens to survive with a strong demon within…”

The Illidari chuckles. “A guy like that would be legendary. Not counting Lord Illidan, of course. He * _is_ legendary.” He pokes at Bel'theas’s little palm and the baby grabs his fingertip.

The mage licks her lips. “I wouldn’t call him legendary. But…sometimes he loses control… And bad things happen.”

Bel'theas’s teal eyes flick between the conversing pair in a manner that makes Kel’ori think he’s listening to them. The baby coos, reaching a shaky arm out to grab at her hand and grip her finger.

Baemalen looks at her for a long moment. “So it wasn’t a demon,” he says cautiously. “It was a demon hunter.” He frowns, his serene demeanor failing. “I’m sorry.”

Her chin quivers, but she fights back the tears. “Technically yes? And…technically…no?” She turns away, giving her attention to Bel'theas. “He’s so beautiful, though. I already love him.”

He smiles again and wraps an arm around her shoulders to give her a little shake. “That’s all that matters, right? As long as you two have each other, no need to dwell on the past.” He observes the infant and the look in his small, bright eyes. “He loves you, too.”

Kel’ori holds back a yawn, but it breaks free a moment later. “Oh, sorry. Crying makes me sleepy.” She gives a small giggle. “I don’t want to go back in there. Didn’t build a fire in there, either. It’s probably freezing.” She smiles at Baemalen again. “Tell me about before joining Illidan’s cause. Why did you enlist?”

He shrugs. “We can build a fire in the next room if you’re tired.” His smile grows reserved at her question. “Mm. Well. I didn’t really have anywhere to go after being released from the orphanage. No friends. No family. So I joined the military and they nearly immediately sent me here. But that’s okay. I have a habit of being thrown around by the winds of fate.” He tilts his head some. “Why did you become a mage?”

“Just…something to do. I love fashion and it helped making clothes a lot easier.” She goes quiet as she thinks on how tired she is, debating if she is up for dealing with the aspect. Without a pause or a second thought, she hands Bel'theas to Baemalen, then pushes to her feet. “Keep him in here where it’s warm. I’ll get the fire going so it’ll be warm enough.” Three logs levitate up and follow her down the hall. She opens the door and glares at Vendormu. “I’m warming up the room so I can sleep. I’d rather you not be in here when I retire for the night.” She sends the wood careening violently into the heating stove in the center of the room, followed by a fireball, then slams the door and returns to the main room and sits back in her spot beside the blood elf. “I would love nothing more than for him to find somewhere else to be an ass until it’s time to go home.”

Baemalen and Bel'theas blink at one another as the woman fusses about the rooms. He chuckles when she accosts the aspect and gives her a smirk when she returns. “Well, I mean, he did give us food,” he laughs, then hisses through his teeth when his hair is pulled.

Vendormu gives the ceiling a bemused state, then smirks to himself. His body melts into the hammock and out of sight.

Kel’ori takes the infant’s hands in one of hers. “That hurts him, Bel.” She laughs, then sighs and casts her gaze to her skirt. “It’s the only nice thing he’s even done. And I think he only did it so I’d shut up. It’s bad enough he’s clearly incompetent, but also rude? He’s the worst.”

Baemalen gives a small shrug. “Maybe he’s got stuff going on, y’know? Surely he can’t just be a huge jerk for no reason,” he chuckles. “Chas taught me to always assume the best in people. Sorry.”

“My father is a businessman. He said to always be on your guard, because sooner or later someone will show their true colors. I think lizard-brain is the sooner type.” She smiles as Bel'theas wraps his little fingers around her thumb and _ooo_ ’s up at her. She looks at her shoulder, realizing she’s leaning against into Baemalen. She straightens and frowns. “Sorry. Just… He’s there and…”

Bel'theas’s face pinches and he begins to fuss.

“He’s probably hungry. I should feed him before bed.” She holds out her hands, waiting for the man to hand him over, rather than pulling the baby away.

The Illidari hands over the baby. “I can handle him if you’d like to rest afterward. I don’t mind and he doesn’t seem to mind me.” He chuckles about the dragon. “And perhaps you’re right. But my caretakers at the orphanage always said to treat others how you’d like to be treated, so regardless of how much of an ass he is, I’ll be kind.”

Kel’ori shrugs as she stands. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m right. Regardless, it’s time for bed.” She heads for the back room.

The next morning Baemalen blinks tiredly into the dead cinders. He hums quietly to the swaddled baby in his arms and shivers in the chill of the morning.

Kel’ori blearily tries to pull her baby closer. It takes her a moment to realize that her arms are empty. Her eyes snap open and she struggles to sit upright in the hammock. “B-Bel'theas?” She scrambles out of the hammock and looks around the empty room. “No. No! _Bel'theas!_ ” She rushes from the room, tears forming in her eyes. When she reaches the main room and beholds the weary man comforting the softly moaning infant, she takes in a hiccupping breath. She drops down beside them and strokes the blond hair between the little horns. “I was so scared that hoofed harlot had taken him to the Nether or something,” she admits.

Tryxora hisses from the corner of the room. <<I would never! … He’s too young to go there, yet.>>

Baemalen gives her a tired smile. “I’m sorry. He started fussing and you were still asleep. If I’d have let him start crying, he’d have woken you up. And I know you’d prefer if _she_ didn’t take care of him.”

Kel’ori purses her lips at the man and gives an indignant huff. “I’m his mother. He’s s _upposed_ to wake me up. What if he was hungry?” She eases the infant from him and shoves Baemalen lightly. “Go to sleep. You look like you’re going to die. You can even use my cloak as a blanket.”

He nods tiredly, nearly falling asleep the second the infant is out of his arms. He jerks back awake, however, when the clattering of wood rings through the room. He rubs an eye at the new firewood. “Yeah,” he groans and stands. “Please don’t be afraid to wake me if you need me.” He smiles and makes his way back into the sleeping quarters.


	9. Chapter 8

Alisbeth makes a face. “Those mean, smelly orcs. Kael’thas said to stay away, and I always listen to my prince.” She slowly clambers up to the road to watch them leave as Taveth hisses for her to get back down. She waves him away, then beckons the others up.

Koltira purses his lips at the other death knight, then holds out his hand to Anarchaia to help her up onto the road.

Anarchaia accepts the help up, then turns to assist Jorick up when she’s secured, picking him up with magic and setting him gingerly on the road.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize the lady needed help up,” Koltira says, jerking a thumb at Jorick.

Jorick blinks, then straightens. “I didn’t need help. Nor did I ask. Ana’s just a polite person. A rarity these days one could assume.” He gives a small grin as he passes.

Anarchaia frowns to herself, well aware of the tension between the two. “H-heh. I-I wouldn’t say that…”

Koltira rolls his eyes and falls into step with the others, jerking his head to get Taveth to catch up.

“Right, then. We should get a move on,” Taveth says. “They won’t come back, you don’t think?”

Grimory merely flutters up with a flap of his wings. “Probably not. I don’t speak orcish, but I doubt they enjoy being out at night, yeah? They aren’t known for their amazing vision.” He presses forward.

Alisbeth races to catch up, pressing into the demon hunter’s side. “I spy something familiar,” she whispers.

Grimory gives her a sideways glance and smirks. “Funny. So do I. Wouldn’t happen to have a horse with you, would you?”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looks up at the demon hunter. “What do you mean?”

Grimory’s smirk falls into a somewhat disappointed line. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He looks behind him. “Maybe we should find a place to camp for the night soon.”

Jorick gives Anarchaia a look and the latter furrows her brow and turns away. She looks up at Grimory. “Are you getting tired? We could find an alcove or something.”

“Oh! Camp! Like when we all first met!” Alisbeth bounces in excitement. “That was so much fun.”

Koltira nods and looks to the high elf. “You ready to make camp?”

Taveth looks around the barren landscape. “We should find a place less…open.”

The death knight scans the area and finds a cave in a large, rocky hill just off the path. “Is that adequate accommodations?” he asks no one specific.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. We just need some tinder. Nights get cold here,” Grimory says before anyone else can respond. He leads Alisbeth that way.

“Probably because there’s so little atmosphere here,” Anarchaia mumbles as though she cannot help speculating. “No insulation.”

“That wouldn’t explain the forests, though,” Jorick responds.

She gives him a small smile. “Yeah. You’re right. How silly of me.” She carefully navigates down the hillside, wary of her heeled boots and the many cracks in the terrain. “Wind resistance, then.”

“Many deserts have extreme temperature drops at night as compared to the day,” Taveth says as he makes his slow way down the steep incline from the main road. “It’s the lack of water, actually. There’s no humidity to trap the heat from the sun, so once that’s gone the earth gets more—”

“ _Nerd!_ ” Alisbeth screams and tosses a handful of sand at him.

Anarchaia stifles a giggle and dusts Taveth’s shoulder off. “Thanks.”

Once the party has reached the cave, the mage lifts a palm. It fills with fire, creating dramatic shapes and shadows on the craggy walls inside. Grimory nods in approval.

“I’m going to find some tinder,” he says after the group has settled. “Probably not wood but I’m sure there’s something. Can you keep that up for the time being, Ana?” She nods and he turns to leave as Koltira uses the heel of his boot to dig a small hole for the fire.

Alisbeth leaps after the demon hunter. “I’m going with! Take me!”

Taveth squints at his book in the darkness, then gives up and puts it away. He stretches and sits with his back to a wall. “Why can’t there be a faster way? One with less danger, at that. I’ve heard stories of Terrokar. Even in our time, the Arakkoa population is strewn about, so it’s difficult to avoid them. On top of the wildlife, which is also said to be unfriendly. According to historical maps, though, Terrokar is the only way to get where we’re going.”

“If you’ve seen maps, and you remember them so well, what’s the point of his map,” Koltira asks, jerking a thumb at Jorick.

Taveth chuckles. “I’m sure what he got was a road map. I only looked at geographical ones. His is very useful.”

Jorick narrows an eye as he sets himself on the opposite side of the cave. He pulls the rolled map out and twirls it between his fingers. “In case we get—oh, I don’t know— _lost?_ ”

Anarchaia sits in the middle, serving as a substitute fire pit for the time being. She hugs her knees with her free hand. “It’s a good back up plan to say the least.” She chews on her lip, the tension weighing on her. “Can you tell us the best path from here?”

The human man, hiding his agitation, unfurls the map. “The road we’re on leads southwest through the mountains and into the forest. There’s a huge rift that we can’t cross unless we want to fall endlessly into the void.”

Koltira moans as though enjoying something. “Falling into the void. Sounds like fun.”

Taveth blinks in the darkness. “That sounds like the very opposite of—”

“Sarcasm,” Koltira interrupts.

 _That actually does sound rather nice right now_. Anarchaia plops her cheek onto a knee.

Jorick stands after shoving the map back into his breastplate. Without a word he wanders to the front of the cave to lean and keep watch.

“Not sure what they plan to find out there,” Anarchaia says after watching him go. “I may just have to keep us lit. Heh.”

Taveth shrugs. “Who knows. We’re not quite close enough to the bramble forest, but maybe they can find some abandoned wagon?” He slowly scoots closer to sit against Anarchaia as the chill of the night begins to hit his sedentary state. He gives her a thankful smile. “Are you doing okay?” he whispers.

Koltira lets out a long breath. “I should have gone instead of Grim. Still warm to me.”

Anarchaia smiles wearily over at Koltira. “By that logic, I should have gone, too.” She turns the smile on Taveth and leans into his shoulder with her own. “Yeah, why?” she responds just as quietly.

Taveth glances between the two other men. “There’s an odd tension between them… It’s uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Her smile fades. <<Jorick is an old lover of mine. And childhood friend. Before I died,>> she explains in quiet Draenei. <<And isn’t thrilled with Koltira’s…demeanor.>>

Taveth’s brow furrows. <<Oh. I… I suppose Koltira does take some getting used to.>>

Koltira cocks his eyebrow. “My name sounds the same in that gibberish you’re speaking. What are you talking about?”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen slightly and the corners of her mouth tighten. “N-nothing. Just going over the plan for when we get to the temple. Y’know. Everyone’s role…heh.”

Koltira cocks his eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be best spoken loudly? And in a language we all speak?”

Anarchaia gives a sheepish grin and visibly shrinks into herself. “Yyyes?”

Koltira’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts. “So…what are we all doing, then?”

“Well, I’m not going inside. Heh. Knowing my luck I’d end up a demon hunter…” Taveth says.

“Or dead,” Koltira adds.

Anarchaia gives a quiet, forced chuckle. “Thal’kiel would be thrilled.” She clears her throat. “Grim, Ali, and I go inside while you three keep watch at the rendezvous point after we lure the old Grim there.”

Koltira nods his approval as he thinks it over. “Will you be bringing him to the rendezvous or going straight back to the outpost?”

“I told Kel to be ready for him. She said she’d get the shed ready,” Taveth says.

Anarchaia nods. “To the point. I’m sure they’ve mage proofed their temple.” She frowns. “Hopefully that doesn’t include illusions.”

~ * ~

Outside in the waning light, Alisbeth slips her arm into Grimory’s. “Where do you think we’ll find tinder? Oh, look! I know that place! I wonder if they’re still friendly to elves in this time.” She points up at the spire of Falcon Watch. “Think they have wood?”

Grimory looks at the spire in the distance. “I suppose it’s as good a try as any. I didn’t bring any money, though. Do you think they’ll accept trades?” He steers her toward that direction.

“Hmm. We could do something for them. Or I can give them this awful helmet. It’s worth at least two logs, right?” Alisbeth takes the helm off and flicks it with her fingers. The metal _tings_ in the quiet evening.

Grimory chuckles. “Maybe. Maybe I can part with a boot. They _are_ genuine basilisk leather.” He snatches the helm from her hands to inspect it.

“The only good thing about it is it keeps my hair back…so I don’t have to see it.” She flicks the helm again. “Stupid illusion.”

Grimory’s face softens. “You look beautiful. You always do, but…it feels like I’m getting a taste of what I missed out on, yeah?” He takes the helm from her again to force her to look at him, then smiles.

Alisbeth furrows her brow, her lips curving into a frown. “You missed out on you…or on me…like this?”

Grimory looks down at the helm in his hand. “On us.”

Alisbeth frowns at her distorted reflection in the helm. “You didn’t miss much. I’m nothing special. Never was.” She takes his hand and pulls him to keep walking. “We’re almost there.”

Grimory sighs and dutifully follows. When the two arrive at Falcon Watch, it appears that all the inhabitants have retired for the evening save for a lone archer serving as a watchman.

“Halt,” he says warily but does not reach for his weapon. “State your business.”

Alisbeth smiles at the archer. “Hi there! We come in search of firewood, to build a fire. Because the night is cold and… Much too cold for us _living_ beings. You know what I mean?”

The man gives the two an odd look. “Right. Sure. There’s some for ten gold a bundle in back.”

Grimory holds out the helm. “We don’t have any gold. Will this do?”

The man looks it over. “It’s a bit dented, here. You can have a bundle for it. Should last you the night. Careful of the ravagers.”

“Anu belore dela’na,” Alisbeth says quickly, then grabs Grimory’s hand to drag him away.

“Al diel shala…Captain?” The archer looks her over.

“Nope! Wrong elf, ha ha. Ha ha ha!” She grins awkwardly, then drags the demon hunter away. “Stupid elf outposts,” she mumbles once out of earshot.

Grimory gives the man an apologetic grin and follows. He scoops up one of the bundles and hauls it into his shoulder. “All right, this should be fine. Let’s get moving.”

Alisbeth frowns as they make their way back to the cave. “I didn’t think about people recognizing me.”

Grimory gives her a coy grin. “Everyone knew you but me.”

Alisbeth nods. “Well, most by name. After Silvermoon, many by face.” She smiles. “I liked that you didn’t know me.”

When they arrive at the cave, Alisbeth motions animatedly in the demon hunter’s direction. “We got wood! Now you can be warm! Oh, are we cuddling Aladdin, now? I want in!” She runs forward and dives beside the mage, wrapping her arms around both the mage and her cousin.

“You’re cold,” Taveth complains.

Grimory sets a few of the logs in the shallow pit Koltira had dug. They gently light into a small fire that slowly swells.

Extinguishing her own flame, Anarchaia gives a sort of croak as she’s squeezed. She untangles herself from the hug and stumbles away a pace or two. “I’m going to go tell Jorick he can come rest, now.” She trots to the front of the cave and sets a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we have wood now. And a fire. I can keep watch, now.”

He blinks tiredly. “But don’t you want to—oh right.” He smiles down at her. “Hard to remember that you’re dead when you’re just as pretty as you were twenty or so years ago. If you get ‘tired’, just come get me again.” He brushes her bangs from her face and pats her on the shoulder as he passes, then sticks his hands in his pockets as he returns to the others.

Anarchaia frowns the second he is unable to see her do so, then sets herself just outside atop a small boulder.

Koltira’s eyelids lower, unimpressed with Jorick’s show of affection toward the mage. Instead of speaking up, however, he turns his head away and seethes in silence.

Taveth curls up by the fire, his head on his satchel. “We forgot blankets.”

Alisbeth removes the armor from one thigh and sits by the fire. She smiles and motions for Grimory to lay down.

He obliges and sighs through his nose as he stares up at the ceiling. A million thoughts race through his head about returning to the temple and what may happen, but he remains quiet. “We have a plan yet?” he says after a bit.

Jorick shrugs from his secluded place in the shadows. “I feel like none of anything was planned.”

“A lot of things weren’t planned. Including us being here,” Koltira growls. “Basic idea is we secure a spot outside while you take the girls inside. Find yourself, Ali knock him out or something, Ana teleports past-you and Ali out. You get the information you need and get out. We’ll formulate a plan for stopping the attack after we know what we’re dealing with.”

“What if he can stop it while he’s there?” Alisbeth asks, fanning her fingers through the demon hunter’s hair to help sooth him to sleep.

Unease stirs in Koltira, seeing the Alisbeth he’d know being so tender with another man. “Then use your judgement, I guess,” he snaps and goes to the mouth of the cave.

“No teleporting inside,” Grimory mumbles. “Only the portals we’ve created ourselves are permitted. We’ll have to lure him—me—out somehow. Just outside the barrier.” He opens his eyes as Koltira’s footsteps fade away. “What’s up his ass?” he mutters.

<<A human,>> Taveth says in Draenei. “Good night.”

Grimory furrows his brow slightly. “Oh.”

Anarchaia tenses on her rock, somehow knowing who is just feet behind her. “The sky is pretty here,” she muses casually.

Koltira nods and glances over to the mage. “I’m sorry I wasn’t alive. You seemed to really be hoping he’d do that for me. Like he said, though, it’s our past selves from this year.” He looks at her from the corner of his eye, partly gauging her reaction, but also just enjoying her peachy skin tone and the pink blush in her cheeks.

Anarchaia frowns again and inhales slowly. She turns her head only slightly but finds she cannot look him in the eye. “I don’t care what you look like,” she finally says—quiet so her voice won’t carry. “It was more for covertness. But you’re right. It was a dumb idea.” She turns back to look at the sky littered with galaxies and stars.

Koltira purses his lips. “I already said it wouldn’t do anything. And you think I could convince that asshole to give me a real disguise?” he sighs out a long trail of frosty breath. “I hate this whole situation.”

Anarchaia nods absently. “Me, too,” she says, not entirely speaking on the subject. “But it is what it is, and I guess we’ll have to deal until we’re done.” Her face softens as she continues to stare into space. _He feels so far away and I don’t know why_.

“I guess,” Koltira says, and leaves it at that.

His eyes sweep over the land not completely swathed in darkness, due to the brightness of the stars and the moon and the other planets in the sky. It leaves an eerie-feeling illumination hovering just over the red-orange sand of the desert.

Anarchaia brings up a thumbnail to chew on, then sighs. Her eyes fall down to look at the cracked earth. She blinks slowly and a sharp gust throws her hair to one side and about her face. “You know I love you, right?”

Koltira lets out a long breath, then crosses the mouth of the cave. He leans back against the rock wall and wraps his arms around her, pulling her back into his chest. He presses his nose into her hair and closes his eyes. “Can you blame me for being the littlest bit insecure?”

Anarchaia rests her palms on his forearms, a tentative frown still on her lips. “I feel like that’s a trick question. If I say no, I’m condoning the fact that you think I would leave you for someone else.” She looks up at him from beneath a knit brow. “And I wouldn’t.”

Koltira turns her around and holds the sides of her head, his fingers knitting through the hair behind her ears. He looks into her eyes for a long time, a frown pulling at his lips. “Maybe I’m scared that you’ll realize you deserve better than me.” He finds he cannot stop staring at her. Studying how her normally empty socket contains a glimmering eye; her stitches all gone and her skin, still pale, but a livelier tone. He curls the fingers of one hand and runs them along her cheek.

She brings a hand up to hold his, then turns her head to press her lips into his knuckles. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” she says against his hand. With a sideways glance, she smiles but does not release him. “Besides, Jorick isn’t better than you. If I’d thought so I’d not have broken up with him twenty years ago. …Er, three years…from now.”

Koltira chuckles and pulls her closer. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve my insecurities.” He sets a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Anarchaia’s face softens when he cannot see it. _I might_. She hugs him tightly, despite the discomfort of the hard steel against her cheek. “Too bad I only look alive, hm?”

“Too bad I don’t even look it,” he says on a soft sigh.

She chuckles softly and drags him down to sit in the dirt with her. “Well apparently that’s not even necessary.”

“You wouldn’t like to see me as I was?” he asks, staring up at the stars and running his fingertips down one of her arms.

“I fell in love with you as you are.” She curls her knees up and sets her head on his shoulder. “Do I really look that different?” She says absently and brings a hand up to feel for the now absent stitches. “Master says _Master_ Kel’thuzad did all he could to preserve me.”

Koltira looks down at her. “Two eyes. The color of life in your skin.” He rests his thumb on her bottom lip. “Pink lips. It’s like someone colored you with the wrong paints. It’s strange, but I like it. You’re beautiful.”

Anarchaia gives a goofy sort of smile and turns away to cover her face. “You know I can’t handle that,” she whines.

“You can’t handle the truth?” Koltira asks, smiling down at her.

“No, I don’t like liars,” she says, peeking at him through her fingers.

Koltira smirks down at her. “I never lie.”


	10. Chapter 9

Taveth wakes in the morning shivering. He sits up and groans, rubbing his arms. He looks to the two keeping watch, Anarchaia wrapped in Koltira’s arms, then to his cousin, who is slowly tilting side to side as she stares at something on the ceiling.

“The fire went out,” he complains.

“Oh,” Alisbeth says, as though genuinely not having noticed.

“Why didn’t you feed it?” He grabs one of the extra logs and sets it in the pit, hoping there are some embers left over to catch.

“Nobody told me to.”

His eyelids lower at her.

Grimory groans and shifts in his half sleep. He sits up and readjusts his hair that had fallen loose during the night. “Ana,” he whines loudly after realizing she’s not there, “food. Fire.”

Anarchaia sits up with a small gasp. “The fire!” She stumbles over Koltira’s legs and back into the cave. “I’m sorry!” The logs roar back to life and the bundle of rations they’d bought the day before appears near the pit. She opens it and hands some bread and meat to Taveth and Grimory, then bends over Jorick’s still sleeping figure to attempt to push a piece into his mouth.

The man quickly grabs her wrist and glares up at her with a sharp gasp. After she gives a quiet cry of surprise and pain, he relaxes and quickly sits up, releasing her and pulling the bread from his mouth. “I’m sorry, Ana! I-I didn’t mean to! You surpris—”

“It’s fine,” she says, rubbing her wrist. “I’ll remember not to wake you up by shoving things into your face. Sorry.” She chuckles.

Taveth blinks up at the mage. “You can wake me by shoving things in my mouth.” He gives her a silly grin.

“Does that invitation extend to me?” Koltira asks from just inside the mouth of the cave.

Taveth gives a fake dramatic sigh. “If you must.”

Grimory knits his brow as he stands and stretches. “This conversation is getting inappropriate.” He yawns.

Both Jorick and Anarchaia give quiet snickers. The latter helps the former to his feet. “Get your fill of breakfast.” She takes the remaining couple of logs and sends them back to the outpost. “We leave as soon as you’re all ready.”

“Can I shove things in your mouth?” Alisbeth asks the demon hunter.

Grimory smirks down at her after chewing his rasher. “Depends on what it is.”

The death knight thinks as she pushes to her feet. “Something you can eat that isn’t food?” She grins at him.

Grimory taps his chin as though unable to provide an answer. He shrugs at her as he buckles his belt back around his waist. “Chewing gum.”

Taveth chews his food slow and tired, not quite ready to leave the warmth of the newly restored fire.

Anarchaia folds her arms as she stands over Taveth. “Lead in your boots?” she says teasingly.

Taveth mumbles something with the bread shoved into his mouth.

Koltira strides in and folds his arms. “Ana, you’re too nice. We leave in five minutes. Finish your food or stay in the cave. Without the fire.”

“Okay, daddy.” Taveth stops and cringes at himself. “I was meaning that in a completely different manner than it came out. Now I have regrets.”

Anarchaia barks a laugh and points at the high elf with a smirk. <<Only I get to call him that.>> She extinguishes the fire and sends the still smoking logs away for later use.

Jorick’s eyelids lower as he runs his fingers through his hair. He pulls the bread from his mouth and turns for the mouth of the cave. “I’ll be outside before I completely lose my appetite.”

The group gets going, Taveth still grumbling and finishing the small meal he’d eaten too slowly. As they pass under the shadow of Falcon Watch, Alisbeth points up at the spire.

“That’s where we got the wood! They have my stupid helmet.”

They continue walking south and west until a massive bramble forest is before them; behind it looms the darkness of Terrokar Forest. They stop, Koltira readying his blade as Arrakoa stop within the brambles to take notice of the travelers.

“You all didn’t hope this was going to be a pleasurable stroll, did you?” Koltira asks, smirking down at Anarchaia.

“I get to kill things!” Alisbeth shouts. She withdraws her axe and runs toward the bird people.

Anarchaia stares onward, bemused. “It never is, is it?” she grumbles. An Arakkoa, clearly the most foolhardy, runs toward them, followed by the rest; he squawks as a fireball hits him square in the face, then dances around, trying to put out the burning feathers.

Grimory lifts a large mutated hand to cover his face when a bolt of violet energy is thrown at him. He growls in pain and runs forward, after the spellcaster who screeches and attempts to run away.

A quieter enemy attempts to flank them from the fallen crag near the base of the walls. Poisoned daggers ready, it lunges for the bulk of the group.

Koltira plucks the Arakkoa from the air. He lifts Byfrost to catch the would-be assassin on the blade. The creature squawks and clutches the deep gash across his chest.

Alisbeth cuts through the bird people, laughing in excitement as she leaves them dead or just maimed on the ground. “Grim! C’mon! I can see the other side!” She runs for the path covered over by a bramble canopy.

The Arakkoa recovers somewhat, shakily lifting the dagger, then jerks and falls sideways into the dirt, a dagger protruding from its temple. Jorick easily slides the blade back out with a boot on its head. He notices the two elves racing toward the end of the path and grits his teeth.

“C’mon, bookworm,” he says as he grabs Taveth by the wrist and follows.

Anarchaia follows suit as well, blasting the last few remaining Arakkoa with fire when they get too close.

Taveth runs after the human. As they reach the others, more bird men pour from their hovels carved into the hills.

They pick up their pace until they reach the darkness of the forest and hide in among the trees, but the Arakkoa refuse to follow them into the tree line, anyway.

Koltira sheaths Byfrost and furrows his brow. “Because _that’s_ not disconcerting at all.”

“It is,” Grimory says through huffs of air. “This place is dangerous. My squad and I were sent to Shattrath once on a supply run. A couple of us didn’t make it back to the temple.”

Jorick wipes the blood from his dagger onto the edge of his boot. “Comforting. We should do our best to not make camp here, then.”

“Shadowmoon is just as unforgiving.”

The human purses his lips. “Of course it is.”

Taveth, sunk to the bottom of a tree as he tries to catch his breath, withdraws his dagger and slips it into his belt. Thal’kiel shimmers into view and spins around.

<<What? What do you want?>>

“Float above us and play lookout,” he says.

<<Menial tasks? What do I look like, a common adventurer to you?>> Thal’kiel swirls indignantly, but rises higher and shifts side to side, looking for anything out of the ordinary. <<Good job with the Illidari,>> he says, almost ruefully.

“Careful, that was almost a compliment.” Taveth pushes back to his feet and wipes his brow. “I suppose tarrying in any location is a bad idea, then.”

Koltira nods once. “Let’s try to not stop moving until we get to the temple, then. How long is the journey?” He asks Grimory.

“Not long by dragonhawk,” Alisbeth says wistfully as she cleans the blade of her axe.

“If you’re taking a dragonhawk, then I’ll stay behind, heh,” the mage mutters nervously from the back.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Ana,” Grimory grumbles.

“Cute little dragonhawks, too?” Jorick teases with a smile.

“If it’s bigger than me it can stay far, far away,” she hisses.

The Illidari rolls his eyes. “It’ll take a few days if we stick to the outskirts. Longer if we run into any troubles. Shadowmoon is a flat wasteland. Shouldn’t take long to traverse after that.” He eyes the skull overhead.

Alisbeth shrugs. “I don’t see any dragonhawks. Time to _walk_. Yay. Walking. _I love walking_.” She takes Grimory’s hand and starts kicking her way through the tall grass.

Taveth nods. “He’ll help keep an eye out.” He points up at the flaming skull.

“Or draw attention,” Koltira says blandly.

<<I would _never!_ … Or would I?>> Thal’kiel cackles and swirls around the nearest tree.

“Draw attention and I’ll have Alisbeth pull out your teeth,” Taveth says.

The death knight perks. “Can I do it now?” She hops up and down in excitement.

“Let’s just go,” Koltira says. He sets his palm between Anarchaia’s shoulder blades and guides her after the two in the lead.

After the day progresses, the group comes upon a large stream, the one end rushing over the edge of the world and into the nothingness below. On the other side and into the distance sits a small outpost of sindorei make—one of its spires reaching toward the stars.

Anarchaia holds out a hand to Jorick who relinquishes the map in his cuirass. “Firewing Point?” she says curiously.

“One of Kael’thas’ outposts,” Grimory explains. “Not kind to Alliance. Or much of anyone who hasn’t earned their trust.” He chews on the inside of a cheek. “We should go around, yeah? To be safe.”

“We don’t have much of a choice with the river,” the mercenary mutters.

Alisbeth grins and bites on her lip. “I can go there. They’d know me.” She begins to go in that direction but stops when the demon hunter holding her hand doesn’t move. “They’re friends, right?”

Taveth cringes. “Not friends to us.”

“Keep moving,” Koltira urges, putting himself between any sentries and the mage.

<<Oh, but I wanted to see her go in,>> Thal’kiel drones. <<Crossing to the right. Less deep. Don’t slip and break your necks.>> He lets out a heavy sigh. <<Or do.>>

“No, no. Here.” Anarchaia kneels at the chosen crossing place. She sets her hands in the water and a bridge of thick ice blooms across its surface.

Jorick whistles as he crosses. “Impressive, little bird. I remember when you couldn’t even make ice for drinks at the tavern.”

She chuckles embarrassedly and follows. “I guess twenty years of work is finally paying off.”

Koltira’s eyelid lower. _She said not to worry. And yet_ … He makes sure Taveth gets safely across, then leaves the other two to cross. “Now which way?” he asks, not looking back at his companions as he scans the area.

Alisbeth jogs forward and slides across the ice, giggling as she trips over the grass on the other side. “Grim! Slide! It’s so fun!”

Grimory gives a quiet chuckle when he reaches the other side and helps Alisbeth back onto her feet. “I’m not fond of the taste of dirt,” he laughs.

“That way,” Anarchaia says while pointing and poring over the map. “East…ish.” She pulls up her hood as though the elves, even miles away, can see her human face.

“I didn’t eat any dirt,” Alisbeth says. She takes his hand and skips on through the grass behind the others.

The team travels south, following their map; carefully avoiding outposts and Arakkoa tree-towns. It’s not until the afternoon that they reach the border between Terokkar and Shadowmoon Valley. Koltira stops to let the living rest and scans the upcoming terrain.

“Slave-driver,” Taveth mumbles. “Ana, water, please?”

“Need me to carry you?” Alisbeth asks, giving him a playful pinch.

Taveth leans back and closes his eyes as he rests his feet. “I’m not saying no.”

The mage conjures a flask from their stockpile back at the barracks and offers it to the scholar. She smirks. “Need _me_ to carry you?” She wiggles her fingers and the man lifts only a centimeter or two off the ground.

Taveth flails for the split second, then relaxes again as he drinks the water. “I’m sure I’ll live?”

Anarchaia shrugs and hums a note before releasing him unceremoniously back to the dirt.

Grimory looks out over the wasteland of Shadowmoon and mulls over his thoughts, a deeply pensive look carved into his less weathered features.

Jorick seizes the moment of respite and sits to rub at an aching joint.

Alisbeth scrutinizes he demon hunter’s face and frowns. The expression clears and she tries to urge him to sit. “You should rest while there’s time,” she says.

“She’s right,” Koltira says. “We need you to be top shape. I imagine you know this terrain better than anyone here.”

Grimory looks between the two death knights, then smiles into Alisbeth’s lively face. “Yeah,” he says, almost forcefully, “okay.” He sits and leans back on his palms to look up at the canopy above. A drop of moisture from the leaves hits him between the eyebrows and he grumbles.

Anarchaia, noticing the weary man sitting alone, takes a seat beside Jorick. “You holding up?” she asks, hoping to ease the tension some.

He smiles tiredly up at her, still massaging an ankle. “As much as a man my age can. Thanks. I’ll take that water when it’s available.”

Koltira’s jaw tenses after the mage and he takes a few steps toward the darkness beyond the mountains.

Taveth tosses the flask of water the short distance to the human. “I’m finished. Sorry.”

Anarchaia perks and catches just as Koltira nearly disappears beyond the ridge. “Kolt, wait! We should stay together!” She blinks off after him.

Jorick sighs into the flask, the welcome feeling of being near someone he’s familiar with quickly dwindling. “Thanks,” he says to Taveth as he tosses the rest to Grimory.

Taveth nods to the human, then pushes to his feet. “Looks like we’re heading out? No? Maybe?”

Koltira stops in his tracks and folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not going that far. Go back to your friend.”

The mage pauses, then scoffs loudly. “Oh, honestly Koltira!” she hisses. “In a way your jealousy is endearing but at the same time _so_ suffocating.”

Grimory’s ear gives a flick at the hushed yelling down the path. “Nope. They’re arguing. Have a seat.” He pulls a rasher of meat from his bag and gnaws on it while eavesdropping.

A mixture of guilt and irritation washes over Jorick. He rests an elbow on a bent knee and sighs quietly to himself.

Koltira hisses at both himself and the mage. “Ana, just… He’s your friend. Go catch up on old times or something. Have a nice chat about a time you—” He shifts his jaw. “We should really get going.”

Alisbeth giggles as she walks her fingers down Grimory’s sternum. “I remember when he used to get like that over me and you.” She casts her wide grin on Jorick. “I’m sure he has nothing to worry about. Right, Yelpie?”

“Not helping,” Taveth mutters.

Anarchaia scowls and straightens. “He doesn’t _know_ any of you and he didn’t want to be here at all,” she says firmly but quietly. “So regardless of how it makes you feel, I’m going to see to it that he gets through this safely and at the very least not leave him feeling alone.”

Grimory purses his lips but grabs Alisbeth’s hand all the same.

Jorick sighs again and rubs a palm down his face. “Look, I’m well aware that I’m not completely welcome in this little clique you’ve all got going on, but I’d feel like crap if I’d just sat back at the outpost. So, let’s just pretend I’m not even here and just let me help, all right?”

Koltira grits his teeth. “I believe that’s what I just said you should do.”

Anarchaia clenches her fists. A small squeak of indignation ekes from her throat. “Then I will!” she barks and returns to the others. She plops herself down in the dirt at one edge of the circle and folds her arms.

He strides away from her to hop up the boulder-dotted face of the cliff. He perches on one, watching the mage from the corner of his eye and surveying the terrain before them. He notes the pools of green lava and the creatures living within. To the left is a horde outpost he notes to keep safe distance from. He pulls his ears back at the human’s words, but otherwise doesn’t show that he’s heard him.

Alisbeth quietly goes to sit beside the human, a big grin on her face. “But, I like you. I’m glad you’re here, cause I can get to know you.” She gently pats his cheek. “Smile, Yemen. We’re all friends, here.”

Taveth quirks his lips sideways. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t part of this to begin with, either. I, uh, got left behind a few times. Heh… Probably not comforting.”

Jorick furrows his brow and slightly leans away from the cheek pat. He gives Taveth a somewhat uncomfortable smile. “It’s not. But thanks, regardless.”

Grimory holds his tongue as though he weren’t just listening in. “We should get going as soon as we’re done. Tav, you good?”

Taveth stands and shakes out his legs. “I believe so. I’d rather not be idle too long, lest the fatigue set in so soon.”

“Kolty! Stop being a sour ass and let’s go!” Alisbeth shouts, pulling the others to their feet one at a time.

Koltira’s brow lowers and he hops down one boulder at a time to meet the others. He falls into step at the back this time, keeping any more thoughts to himself.

After traveling through the wastes for a long while, the party finds it’s safer to keep to the path that’s been forged through years of wear.

Anarchaia looks over the map again and hums in thought. “We need a rendezvous point where the three of you can remain while the three of us are in the temple.”

Grimory shrugs as he looks over the familiar terrain. “There’s a Draenei village and altar to the northeast. They may be kind enough to shelter you.”

Koltira shakes his head. “Closer. Less…prying eyes. Or have you forgotten we’re kidnapping you? No. I’d rather we find a cave or secure location—preferably against a wall or mountain or something.” He keeps his eyes on the path ahead and on either side of the party, watching for any creatures that might be itching to wander into them, seeking a fight.

Taveth nods his approval. “I, too, would like to be closer to the temple.”

“You just wanna draw it,” Alisbeth teases.

Grimory gives a nod of agreement. “I don’t know of many cave systems near the temple—especially ones that aren’t infested—but I’m sure we’ll find something.”

A pack of imps wander into view and, upon seeing the adventurers, begin chattering excitedly as they bound forward.

Both Grimory and Anarchaia become tense at the sight, but the latter has the wherewithal to hurl a large fireball into the thick of them. They scatter, shouting jeers and obscenities.

Alisbeth scrambles after the imps, giggling as she swings her axe, skidding back and forth on the dirt.

Taveth taps the end of his pen to his lower lip as he pauses in his note-taking. “How long do you suspect we’ll be here?”

“A good recon job is slow. Infiltration, you’re looking at even longer because he has to blend in and not raise suspicions. We’ll be lucky if he’s out in just a week,” Koltira says from the back.

Grimory again nods. “It may take a couple days to traverse to the end of the valley.” He turns with narrowed eyes. “Faster by _horseback_.”

Anarchaia scoffs and throws her hands up briefly as she helps with the remaining imps. “So don’t bring me anywhere, then, all right?” She mutters curses under her breath, then yelps as one of the tiny demons leaps into her back to dangle from her hood.

Jorick, still mildly annoyed by everything, tiredly slashes at its wrist and the imp separates from its hand. Before it can hit the ground, the human kicks it into a nearby pool if emerald lava as though it were a football.

“That’s not an option,” Koltira says from the back, then says much quieter, “I need you with me.”

Taveth wraps the stems of his glasses behind his ears and looks up at the massive peak in the center of the land, though it seems so small from where they are. “Based on the lack of things flying in the sky around that mountain, I’d guess it to be a safe place to stop…if we do stop for the night? If not I…” He stops himself from admitting he’d be the weak link that forces them to stop in such a dangerous zone.

“I’ll carry you and you can sleep,” Alisbeth whispers against his ear. “I won’t tell anyone. It’s okay to be mortal and need to sleep.” She bites her lower lip and stares at him. “I envy you.”

Grimory nods a third time and looks over his shoulder at the weary human, not wanting to admit how tired he is himself. “No, we can stop there for the night. It’s safer if we stay together for as much time as possible, yeah?”

Anarchaia gives a small nod, not having heard the words of endearment from behind her. “We can re-energize and get a move on early, then.”

“I’ll watch the south,” Koltira offers, taking the more dangerous direction for himself.

“I get north!” Alisbeth says, raising her hand.

“The mountain will be to the north,” Taveth says.

“East?”

“That leaves me with west. Unless I have to pretend to be a firepit again,” Anarchaia says with a small laugh.

“I think you did a good job,” Jorick reassures with a grin. “I must admit that you make a better mage than a firepit, though. So maybe lookout would be best.”

Grimory runs his tongue over his flattened teeth for the hundredth time, still not accustomed to the feeling. “We can pick up firewood on the way there to stock supplies. Ali, keep an eye out for anything flammable, yeah?”

“Flammable! Got it! Clothes! Our clothes are flammable!”

Taveth pinches the bridge of his nose. “He means specifically things we can use to build a fire.”

Alisbeth nods. “Oh. Yes. I knew this.”

When the group does finally reach the spire, it’s been many hours. The demon hunter, scholar, and human lag behind the undead, sweating from the heat and weary from the walk. In a stroke of luck, the southern side of the mountain is not only unattended by demons, but a small Eredar building—long since abandoned and the roof caved in—sits at its base amongst the ruins of others.

“Well,” Grimory sighs. “Thank gods for that.” He wanders inside and sets himself immediately against a wall, followed by the mercenary, who finds a dilapidated alcove to shed his armor.

Taveth practically falls to the floor, shifting his bag as he goes down so it ends up under his head. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

Alisbeth giggles at her cousin as she sits beside the demon hunter. “Want my leg again?” she asks, already unbuckling the armor of one.

Grimory hesitates. “You aren’t going to keep watch?”

She frowns. “Oh. Right. Goodnight.” She pats the top of his head and rushes eagerly out the door without the detached piece of armor.

He frowns tentatively, then undoes the fastener on his belt. Taking a page from Taveth, he rests his head on his pack. He takes Alisbeth’s abandoned armor and sets it beside himself before closing his eyes.

Koltira takes Anarchaia’s hand and stops as he makes for the side of the house to climb onto what little roof is left. “I’m glad to travel with you,” he says. He knows he should say that he’s sorry, but for some reason doesn’t feel ready to. “Don’t be a hero, okay? Call to me if you see anything.”

Anarchaia purses her lips as she watches him climb the footholds in the broken wall. “I can handle it,” she simply mumbles and turns away to duck under the crumbled archway and inside. She conjures the old logs from the previous night and arranges them in the center of the room before lighting them and throwing a few of the dried foliage they’d found on top. She frowns when she sees Jorick’s boot sticking out from the shadows of the alcove and goes to him. “Hey. You shouldn’t sleep like that.”

The human looks up at her, arms folded against his chest and armor piled beside him. “I’m all right,” he says with a tired smile.

“Mm. No.” She unbuckles her belt and sets it beside his armor, then pulls her robes up and over her head. “Here. Don’t tell Kel’ori.” She holds them out to him.

Jorick hesitates, then chuckles and takes them when she shoves them into his face. “Okay, okay. Thanks.” He bundles them up and sets them down to use as a pillow. “Be careful out there.”

The mage smiles down at him as he turns away, then frowns to herself and steps back outside to watch at her post to the west.

Koltira scowls through a hole in the roof as Anarchaia gives the human her robes. _She said it’s nothing to worry about, so it’s nothing to worry about._


	11. Chapter 10

Kel’ori, Bel'theas wrapped around her chest in his papoose, sighs in the warming morning as she stares down at the cellar door. She huffs in determination and lights a fire in her palm, raises the other to lift her cleaning supplies into a violet aura, and trudges into the darkness. In one corner she finds a small heating stove; she lights the lanterns that line the walls and looks around at the stained walls and floor and the few rat-gnawed bones in a corner.

She goes back upstairs when everything is cleaned up. She hums over the pot hanging from the hook over the fire. She blows on a spoonful and tastes it, then drops in a few more herbs from the supplies Anarchaia had deposited. Bel'theas’s little hand reaches out of the papoose to slap at her chest.

“We’re not waking him up. The stew isn’t done, yet.”

Bel'theas hums and slaps her again.

“You’re not getting my hair.” She slings the strands over her shoulder before they get into reach of the infant.

Stirred from his slumber, Baemalen inhales the strong scent of stew. He groans and sits up to have a look around, then scratches at an ear and gets to his feet. He wanders into the next room, hair a mess, and smiles at the high elf woman. “So, you made it into the basement?” he says and brushes away a lock with his fingers. “Proud of you.”

Kel’ori smiles. “I did. It wasn’t so bad once I lit it up some. I’m not finished, but it’s less…dungeony already.”

Bel'theas makes a gurgling sound as his eyes settle on the blood elf. He slaps at his mother and gives a small hiccup of sound which isn’t a cry.

“If he wasn’t a few days old I’d think he’s trying to laugh,” she says, easing him from the cloth around her shoulders. “Much too young for that. Did you want to say hi?” She smiles up at him.

Baemalen accepts the baby and laughs and leans away when it reaches aggressively for his nose. “Did you sleep well?” he asks while also throwing a lock over his shoulder and out of reach. “If you needed help with any of this, you don’t need to be afraid to wake me up.”

The mage shakes her head. “No. You needed to sleep.” She strokes the blond hair on the baby’s head and smiles. “This boy had other ideas, though. He doesn’t sleep like a newborn should.”

As she says this, the infant’s eyelids begin to droop and he yawns, then lazily reaches for the man’s red hair again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbles. “What did you do, give him candy?” Kel’ori giggles lightly.

Baemalen pushes the loose lock behind his ear and, again, out of reach. He chuckles and relaxes. “Like I’d risk incurring your wrath over some ‘good friend’ points.” Gently he lowers the infant into his crossed legs. “I just have a way with kids, I guess.” He glances at the simmering stew. “Whatcha got in the pot?”

Kel’ori gives the pot a stir and scoops some of the thickened liquid into the spoon. She blows on it, then tastes it. She nods then holds the spoon out for him to taste. “I thought we could have some real food. Stew. What do you think?”

Baemalen, flushing some, takes a small taste from the spoon. He groans and closes his eyes, savoring the taste. “Haven’t had anything that good since our Final Feast.” He gives her a gentle grin. “You’re quite a homemaker. I bet some man back at home is anxiously waiting for you to get back.”

Kel’ori’s smile fades and she turns back to the stew. “No. And even then, what man would stay with—” She goes quiet and casts her gaze to her son as if he can hear her. “When my mother died I had to help take care of my younger siblings. I guess I just…took to it?” She waves a hand and a small stool with a flask of water, a chipped bowl, and a bent metal mug appears. “It was all I could find. Sorry.” She pulls one container to herself and spoons in the stew. “This spoon was the only utensil I could find. Not sure orcs even use silverware.” Once both are filled she sits opposite him. “No cups, either. I guess I wasn’t prepared for house guests,” she says, laughing some at her attempt at humor in the situation.

Baemalen lifts his eyebrows and chooses the mug over the other option. He blows gently inside, being sure to hold it away from the baby. “Sorry to hear about your mother. How many siblings do you have?” He takes some stew into his mouth, then pauses and gives a quiet whine, his cheeks growing red.

Kel’ori thinks fast, snatching the mug with her magic and Bel'theas in her hands. “Spit it out!” After tucking the infant in one arm, she grabs the flask and cools the water within, causing a sheen of ice to form on the outside. “Are you okay? Oh, gods, I knew I should have found spoons. I’m so sorry.”

Baemalen watches as all of this unfolds, and by the time she’s handing him the flagon the bite in his mouth has cooled. He swallows, then chuckles. “I’m fine! Just…won’t be able to taste much for a week, now.” He laughs and drinks the water anyway. “But what I did taste was delicious.”

Kel’ori sticks her lower lip out. “If only I was a healer. I’m so sorry.” She sits back and bites her upper lip. “You know, no one ever told me I’d keep getting emotional over everything.” She flicks a tear from her lashes before it can roll down her cheek. “I just wanted to do something nice and I couldn’t find any spoons—which I knew was just a bad idea because you can’t blow on a mug the same way—I should have tried harder.”

As the mage grows more frustrated, Bel'theas responds by slowly pouting. He whimpers, then begins to cry.

Kel’ori lowers her face into her hands. “I just want…” she whispers.

Baemalen watches her with slight amusement and sympathy. He sets the mug aside and eases Bel'theas back into his lap, then sets a comforting hand on her knee. “Hey. You’re doing just fine. It was my fault, anyway. Just too hungry to be patient,” he chuckles over the sobbing baby.

Kel’ori forces a sigh and a deep breath. She gives a small giggle. “I know, I just feel so bad that it happened.” She scoots closer on her knees, circling around the stool, until she’s beside the Illidari. She first puts her fingertips to the soft tuft of hair on Bel'theas’s head, then suddenly wraps her arms around Baemalen. “Thank you for everything, though. That’s why it’s not fair that I burned you.”

Baemalen stiffens some at the embrace, then brings a hand up to pat her on the shoulder blade all the same. “I-it’s really no trouble…”

Kel’ori releases the man as his muscles tense. “I’m sorry. That was sudden. I just wanted to thank you.” She eyes him carefully. “If I had materials, I’d make you a shirt, instead of being some crazy lady throwing herself on you—not like that. It was just a hug.” She scoots away, suddenly uncomfortable, herself. “I’m not like that. I’m…really…” She chews on her lower lip and casts her embarrassed gaze away from him. “I guess I used to be.” Her eyes flare as she decides to change the subject. “I wonder if I can get my hands on any materials. Make some nice curtains, some clothes for Bel…and you, if you’d like. There’s just a lack of anything to do around here.”

Baemalen simply nods and smiles throughout all of the woman’s rambling. She swipes her finger through the stew and slips it into Bel'theas’s mouth. The infant slowly quiets as he sucks on her fingertip. The mage screams as his sharp teeth clamp down on the tip, which causes the baby to start crying again.

The man jerks and pulls the baby away, seemingly protecting one from the other. “Are you all right? What happened?” he asks, green eyes wide.

“I’m just…not used to babies having teeth.” She reaches for the infant. “Bel, it’s okay, baby. You just gave mother an ouchie.” She smiles as she remembers Taveth’s present. She swirls her hand and the green metal spoon and the matching rattle pop between her fingers. “Here, if you don’t mind.” She hands Baemalen the rattle, then dips the tip of the spoon in the broth. The mage hesitates. “I’m afraid he’ll bite it and hurt his teeth.” She droops as the infant calms some. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry you’re involved in this. Ana will be back with Grim in a few days… You can go with her if you’d rather have more of an adventure. Though, I kind of enjoy your company.”

Baemalen furrows his brow as he idly rattles the toy above the baby. “Is she the pretty elf girl or the pretty albino girl?” He shakes his head. “All the same, I don’t mind being here with you. I’m accustomed to taking care of kids.” His smile grows somber as he looks down at Bel'theas. “At least it seems all I’m good for anyway.”

“Ana is the albino, yes. I’m not used to her without a mask.” Kel’ori tentatively reaches out to touch his bicep. “I doubt that’s all you’re good for. In fact, I know it’s not. You did great cleaning and getting firewood. Chugged molten stew like it was water.” She grins. “Come on, you have to have some hidden talents?”

The blood elf again tenses at the touch but smiles all the same. “Not particularly,” he chuckles. “I’m one of the few that could beat Donnie in hand-to-hand, and I’m a mean pickpocket, but those are hardly talents.” He tilts his head some. “Not nearly as useful as a mage, like yourself.” Bel'theas gives a quiet groan, alerting him to the fact that he’s stopped rattling the toy, so he continues. “Sorry.”

Kel’ori notices the flinch and rubs her fingers against her palm. “I’m sorry. My fingers are cold. Didn’t…realize.” _He doesn’t like when I touch him at all, it seems._ She twists her fingers together as a first step to avoiding touching the man. “Nothing wrong with a good pickpocket. Might actually come in handy, actually. No one brought money. I mean, we didn’t have time to prepare. One minute we’re opening presents and then next we were here. You can get us some supplies when what they left us runs out.” She smiles encouragingly. “Just as long as you don’t get in trouble for it, of course.”

The Illidari nods slowly, relaxing. “Anything I can do to be useful, really.” He tilts his head again. “Opening presents, hm? What for? Was it someone’s birthday?” He looks down when Bel'theas rips the rattle from his hand and shakes it around himself instead. “Fine, take it…”

“Winter Veil,” she says. Her smile drops as she realizes it is no longer Winter Veil, and so her answer makes no sense. She flinches at the sound of the furious rattling, though raises an eyebrow at the infant’s advanced motor skills. “So, um, if you don’t mind can you clear the bones from the cellar? I…didn’t want to touch them—even with my magic. Not immediately, of course,” she says quickly, hoping it distracts him from the mention of the holiday.

Baemalen swallows the questions that immediately arise, then perks his ears at the request. “O-oh. Right now? Sure.” He offers the baby back and smiles. “Leave it to me.”

“I said not imme—” She stops to observe the complaining infant trying to suck on the rattle. “Oh. I guess it’s mealtime. You can…do that if you really must.” She takes the baby and begins unbuttoning her bodice.

Bel'theas grows more restless, dropping the rattle and reaching for something.

“You little stinker.” Kel’ori giggles. “Sorry, Uncle Bae can’t do this. You’re stuck with me.” Her smile falls and she looks at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… It’s just kind of a habit.”

Baemalen looks away and blushes. “No, it’s all right. It…has a ring to it, really.” He stands and stretches his legs. “I’ll be back in a jiff. Uh…watch out for the teeth. …Again.” He makes his way outside and to the back of the building where the cellar doors reside. He pauses just outside and takes a moment to breathe in deeply, then lets it all out before throwing the doors open.

“What did I do to make him so skittish?” she asks, her eyes on the door.

A short while later Baemalen returns, dusting his hands off on one another, spiderwebs in his long hair. “Done. And not a moment too soon,” he chuckles. “It’s getting late.”

Kel’ori cocks her head at the man. “You slept all day, though. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” She looks down at the still-nursing infant. “You’re just ravenous, huh?” The angles of her face betray her weariness as she slides back to lean against the wall. “I’d kill for something to occupy my time.”

Baemalen chuckles. “I didn’t say I was going to sleep.” He sits in the worn chair across from her and pulls his knees up to himself. “Hm. I’m sure there’s something we can do.” He sets to combing the webs out of his hair with his fingers.

Kel’ori blinks at the man. “Did you clean the ceiling with your head?” She laughs and taps her lip in thought. “Well, I was wondering if there were any tools about so I could build a crib. I’m…not really comfortable with him sleeping in a hammock. There’s plenty of wood outside. Um… I noticed an outhouse a bit away, sort of hiding behind the hill. That probably needs…cleaned.” She shudders at the thought of orcs using it. Kel’ori purses her lips at the elf, then uses her magic to clear the cobwebs and comb his hair smooth. “Unless you mean fun things. I’m not sure this place has fun things.”

He pauses, then chuckles at the sensation of having his hair done by an unseen force. He shrugs. “There weren’t any carpentry tools down there. Just old daggers, pliers, and chains.” He shrugs a shoulder. “And I _did_ mean fun things, but if you’re more if a worker bee then I’m happy to help with anything you want to work on. I could go get some supplies to build a crib? I’m sure Shattrath has _something_ for us…”

Kel’ori thinks on it. “I can’t leave. Not until Ana gets back. And even then, Taveth told me that you can’t go see Grim, so I have to stay and handle that…” She looks around as though missing something. “Where is that confounded dragon now that I actually want his help. If he’ll help.” She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “Fun… I wonder what that’s like? I haven’t had fun in at least four months.”

Baemalen gives the tiniest smirk. “Well, if you need a refresher on what _fun_ is…”

Vendormu’s voice carries through the open doorway and bounces off the quiet walls. “Why? What do you want?”

Kel’ori jumps. “When did you get back? Where did you go? We were hoping to get some things from Shattrath. Can you come out here so I don’t have to yell?”

The aspect steps into the doorway, again visible. “What sort of things?” He scratches at the patch of hair beneath his lip.

Kel’ori looks to the other elf and shrugs. “Things we need. Things for fun. Fabrics, sewing supplies, a crib, or something to make one.” She motions at Baemalen. “What did you need? Should you go with?” She widens her eyes in a hinting manner. “Cause of the money situation?”

Baemalen takes the hint and smiles wide. “Yes! I’ve actually been there a few times on supply runs for the temple. Some of the vendors may recognize me.”

Vendormu knits his brow and looks between the two. “You know I could just—no. Y’know what? Sure. Let’s go, boy.”

The elf hops to his feet, tosses his hair over his shoulder, and gives Kel’ori a wink. “Back in a jiff. Last call for requests?”

Kel’ori opens her mouth, then closes it several times. “M…Makeup…?” She averts her gaze as though she asked for something shameful. “I mean, it’s not…important…I guess.”

“You got it. You don’t need it, but you’ll get it.” He smiles and turns to the aspect. “So, we heading out or—” Before he can finish, however, the two are gone in a swirl of golden light.

Kel’ori sighs and gets up to walk around. She circles the house several times, stopping and stooping every few steps to pick up the rattle as Bel'theas drops it. She returns it to his hand and he returns to shaking it. “Don’t worry, your grip will get better.” After several hours she yawns and sets a fire in the stove in the bedroom, lays in her chosen hammock, and falls asleep.

~ * ~

With a quiet whoosh, Baemalen and Vendormu appear in another whorl of light, a large bag of goods with them. The elf, adorned in a tiger fur that covers his arms and head, lifts his hands and chuckles. “Rawr,” he says tiredly, then lifts it up to peek at Kel’ori. “Sorry. I had quite a bit of money left over after gambling. I couldn’t resist.”

Kel’ori blinks at the man, her eyes squinted through her exhaustion. “Mmmwhat time is it?”

Baemalen blinks at the newly acquired pocket watch he pulls out of his pocket. “Oh! Nearly seven in the morning. I’m so sorry! Go back to sleep.” He sets the fur skin rug down and rummages through the large sack. He pulls out a book. “I’ll be in the next room when you want to get some projects going.”

Kel’ori glances down at the infant, nosing insistently against her chest as he begins to grumble. “No. I’m up. Apparently it’s breakfast time.” She sits up to unbutton her dress. “He’s just getting hungrier. Kept me up all night.” She yawns and rubs at the dark circles around her eyes. “Growing so fast.” She glances at his book, then tries to focus her bleary eyes on his face. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Promise.”

Baemalen again looks away as her brassier falls to the side. “R-right. Well you know where to find me. Haha.” He scurries into the next room, book in hand.

Vendormu smirks after him, then at the woman and her baby. “Anything else? Or am I just so _utterly useless?_ ”

Kel’ori flushes the slightest bit. “Thank you. This time.” She leans back with Bel'theas in her arms, her eyelids growing heavy.

Vendormu rolls his eyes. “Mmhm,” he grumbles before again melding into the surroundings and disappearing.

It’s not long before Baemalen is completely gone, snoring quietly in his chair with his chosen book over his face.


	12. Chapter 11

At the first rays of morning light, Koltira jumps down from the roof through the hole in the ceiling. “Get up. All of you. We need to get going.” He yanks a groggy Taveth to his feet. “Ana! Ali!”

Taveth stumbles back, still not awake. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

Koltira kicks at the other men’s boots. “I didn’t see them until the light hit. There’s a large battalion of fel orcs headed this way.”

Taveth’s eyes widen as though he’s suddenly wide awake. “Yep. Time to go.”

Jorick wakes with a start, then groans and nods while rubbing at his dry eyes. He immediately puts his armor back on and brushes the dust off Anarchaia’s robes before folding them nicely and setting them over an arm.

Anarchaia, brushing the ashy dirt from her backside, smiles at the group as she enters. She thanks the human when he relinquishes her robes and belt before putting them back on. “Comfortable?”

“Better than a rock,” he chuckles.

“Let’s go,” Grimory grumbles tiredly and pushes the lot out the door and to the east.

Alisbeth rushes after the party. “Wait! Wait for me!”

“Didn’t you hear Koltira shouting?” Taveth asks as she catches up.

“No. I was… So how far now?” She skips ahead to wrap an arm through Grimory’s.

The demon hunter narrows his eyes at the horizon. “The rest of the day should be fine. We can scan the surrounding crag to find a place for the guys to stay in the meantime. Or Ana can send them back.”

Anarchaia fidgets. “I could. I-I’ll be honest, though. A lot of my arcane energy comes from Azeroth’s core and the leylines beneath the crust. I didn’t want to say anything, but just sending those items back to the outpost was a tad draining. Heh.”

Koltira nods. “When we set up camp, bring all of our supplies here so that your illusion and taking Grim back and forth are the only things you need to do.” He turns to look behind, pursing his lips as the battalion stops at the building they’d just been occupying. He gives a sigh of relief, then keeps watch for anything else, hoping to avoid anymore unpleasant surprises.

Taveth looks around at the others, counting them and making calculations. “My…energies are not from Azeroth. It is not finite here. But… I read of a portal one like me can conjure. However, it requires an amount of energy no one being can contain, let alone harness…without the aid of others.”

“What are you saying?” Koltira asks.

“If Ana wouldn’t mind, I can reach across the nether using this doorway and, theoretically, bring her to where I’ve conjured it.”

The death knight stops to poke Taveth in the sternum. “Neither of you are going to the nether, and that’s an order.”

The scholar shrinks away. “W-we wouldn’t be going in. I-it works like a door. I open it, reach in, and bring her across!”

“You’re _not_ exposing Ana to the nether. Don’t ever suggest endangering her life as though you’re offering her a flower.” He glares down into the frightened lavender eyes.

“Y-yes…sir. I-I’m sorry.” Taveth grips his book and pen to him and rushes to the front of the group.

<< _Fool_. He doesn’t know your strength. You wouldn’t hurt your friend…intentionally… _Riiight?_ >> Thal’kiel chuckles above the high elf.

<<I’m not doing it. Shut up and keep your eye sockets open.>>

<<Always are. Moron.>>

Anarchaia blinks between the two men as she witnesses the back-and-forth. She eventually gives a slight scowl and sets a hand on Koltira’s arm. “Kolt! He’s just trying to help! There’s no reason to be so aggressive about it. Besides, whether or not I participate is up to _me_. Believe it or not I’m an adult who can make her own decisions.”

Koltira’s ears pull back and his frown deepens. “I can have an opinion on what happens to you,” he hisses.

“Perhaps,” the mage snaps back reservedly, “but I have the final say. His portals may serve useful here since mine will prove not to be.”

“Fine,” he growls and walks away from the mage.

Taveth flinches, as though the argument might turn onto him.

Anarchaia huffs and folds her arms. She glances at Taveth. “It’s a good idea,” she repeats, a hand on his shoulder.

He frowns. “I…would never lose you in the Nether. You believe me, right?”

Her fingers tighten around his shoulder and her face softens. “Of course I do.”

He nods. “I just want to be useful.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows at the conversation behind him but says nothing. He looks at Alisbeth. “Do you know what your role is in all this?”

She nods eagerly. “Nope!”

He cannot help chuckling. “You are going to enter the Temple as a recruit, then incapacitate and kidnap me, yeah?”

Alisbeth’s eyes brighten. “I get to be a demon hunter? _Will I get cool horns, too?_ ”

Grimory cringes and looks back at her again. “No. You’re not, okay? Don’t do that.”

The death knight frowns. “But…you said I was going to be a recruit again. Recruits become demon hunters, unless they change their minds. Why am I a recruit if I don’t get to become like you?”

“No, you’re just pretending,” Grimory responds sullenly. “Besides, we won’t be there long enough for you to be initiated.”

Alisbeth folds her arms and pouts. “That’s not fair.”

The party travels through the day making small conversation. Only once do they have to stray from the worn road to avoid yet another Legion patrol. When finally they reach the Black Temple and the surrounding cliffs, they scour the area, until finding a shallow cave with a high ceiling and three AWOL fel orcs camped within.

“Excuse me, boys,” Koltira says, unsheathing Byfrost, “but we require the use of this cave and…well, we can’t have you running off to tell anyone we’re here.”

Alisbeth withdraws the axe and hops from foot to foot. “Which one can I kill? Which one can I kill?”

The orc nearest them growls and barks something to his buddies before standing and rushing at the death knights.

Grimory chuckles and folds his arms. “I guess that’s your answer.”

Anarchaia takes a protective step in front of the scholar and human, hands filling with flames. The orc in the back sends a large hunk of earth at the trio and it crashes against her arcane barrier. She grunts. “A shaman.”

“That’s not nice!” Alisbeth screams and launches toward the orcs, swinging her axe wildly, trying to hit them all.

Koltira pulls the shaman toward them and swings Byfrost. The blade grazes the orc’s chainmail undershirt and catches on the soft flesh beneath his arm. The weapon tears the skin open and slices through the muscle to the bone. The limb drops to dangle uselessly at the shaman’s side.

The third orc runs for his bow. He quickly nocks an arrow and takes aim for the crazed death knight running toward them.

Grimory slashes the arrow out of the air and growls at the man.

The orc gives a grunt. “A demon hunter?”

The leader scoffs and meets Alisbeth’s axe with his own. <<That’s what that smell is,>> he chuckles in orcish.

The grievously wounded shaman, strength fading, backs away to set a hand on the ground. The earth around Koltira’s feet opens and swallows him up to his shins where it clamps down and refuses to let go. The man gives one last croak before a dagger embeds itself into his eye.

Anarchaia turns to look at Taveth after the shaman falls dead. “Are you all— _agh!_ ” An arrowhead bursts out of her chest, just below her clavicle. She immediately grabs the wound and hisses in pain.

Koltira whips around and scrabbles at the ground, unable to break free. He wraps a purple shade around the throat of the hunter, lifting him off the ground where he gasps and grunts for air.

“This little piggy went to market,” Alisbeth says, gripping the struggling orc’s foot. She uses her axe to cut it off at the ankle. “This little piggy stayed home.” She gently pats the other foot.

Taveth peaks around from the front where he’s fussing over the mage’s injury. “Ali, is there really time for—”

“ _There’s always time!_ ” She grins maliciously at the orc as he falls from the air. “Do you know about the next little piggy?” She reaches down for him.

At the last second, he jams an arrow through the center of her palm.

Taveth shoves the yellow stone at the mage, frowning. “I know you don’t like it and Khadgar would kill me, but…I think he’d be more upset if you didn’t use it in this case?”

The archer jerks forward as he’s used as an anchor, face in the dirt. Grimory is quick to send a boot into the back of his head; a sickening _crack_ sounds and the orc goes still.

Jorick, doing his best to ignore the horrible mutilation going on only feet away, bends to offer Koltira a hand up. “You all right?” he says almost tiredly.

Anarchaia takes the stone in a hand and pulls the other away from her chest. She gives a small smile at the color of the blood in her palm, then sighs before wincing in pain. She grabs the arrow by the front and steels herself before ripping it through. She gasps and whimpers, covering the wound again. “M-maybe you’re right…” she wheezes, looking down at the stone.

“It’s non habit-forming. I promise,” Taveth jokes. He takes the arrow from her and tosses it from the cave.

Koltira accepts the help. Both men pull until the land heaves upward and releases its hold on the elf. “Thank you,” he says quickly, distracted as he goes to the mage. “Gods. Ana, are you okay?”

Alisbeth pouts angrily at Grimory. “I had that under control!” She throws her axe around his shoulder, where it embeds in the final orc. “He twitched.”

Grimory goes stiff when the blade sails past him, then lowers his eyelids. “You can’t have all the fun alone, yeah?” he rips the weapon from the orc and holds it out to her.

Anarchaia crumbles some of the stone into her palm, then jumps and hides it behind her back when she hears Koltira’s voice. “Y-yes!” she croaks, blood dribbling from her lips as she smiles innocently. “Just…a hole. In my chest. And esophagus.”

Koltira pauses, then purses his lips at the man behind the mage. “If you have no choice—and even if you did—I can’t really stop you. Can I? And even if I could…” Instead of going to her, he begins dragging the mangled corpses from the cave.

Alisbeth takes the weapon and stares at it for a moment, then turns her attention on the arrow shaft sticking through either side of her hand. “I guess you can have the fun with me. Can you break this? It’s starting to sting a little.” She shoves her hand almost into his face.

The mage narrows her eyes as she watches him go. Her fist clenches behind her, crushing the stone entirely. She brings it to her face and inhales the powder, then grits her teeth as her wounds seal shut. She rubs at her nose with the back of a wrist. “Thank you, Taveth.”

Grimory leans back a bit before wrenching the arrow free from her hand.

Jorick retrieves his dagger and wipes the blood into his pant leg before sheathing it again. He rummages through the pack just behind his hip and produces a small red vial. He wiggles it at Alisbeth. “Need this?”

Alisbeth screams and punches at Grimory. “I said break the stick, not yank it out!” She punches at him one last time, swipes the potion from the human, and goes to a secluded corner to whine over her injury.

Taveth nods to the mage and hangs his head as Koltira passes with the next corps. “I’m sure it’s just…the situation. He’ll cheer up,” he whispers.

Grimory jerks as he’s punched, then braces himself at the second assault before chuckling. “I’ve seen you sustain a lot worse than an arrow to the hand, yeah? Besides, it’s better to take it out.” He rubs at his newly forming bruise.

Alisbeth scowls. “That’s why I said to _break_ it. So I only had to hurt a _little_.”

Anarchaia shrugs and places the rest of the dust into a roll of parchment. She stows it in her bag. “Whatever. It’s up to him.” She goes to the center of the cavern and conjures the last of their firewood.

Taveth lowers his head and finds a place to sit that’s out of the way.

“We’ll enact the plan first thing tomorrow morning. Grim, try and figure out what day it is, maybe you’ll remember where you were?” Koltira says as he comes in for the final corpse.

“Hurts longer the longer you take,” Grimory responds with a smile. He turns to Koltira and sinks to sit next to the fire the mage has made. “Every day started and ended the same. At a certain time, the four of us would get up and have breakfast.” He pauses for a thought. “Though if this is after Eldon’s initiation, Illie and I would train early before the other recruits got up. Can you wake up me up at sunrise?”

Alisbeth continues to mutter about his rough way of dealing with the arrow, even though the wound is healed.

Anarchaia nods and removes her robes again. She pulls the blood from them, tosses it into the fire, and seals the hole shut. She smiles as the mercenary sits beside her to warm his hands.

“You all right?” he asks casually as he unbuckles his cuirass. “Sorry. Didn’t see you get hurt or I’d have brought you one of the potions.”

Anarchaia’s brow furrows. “I honestly forgot we’d bought some. But yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Koltira grabs a pack and begins going through it. “You’d think deserters would have only useful things.” He pulls a wooden child’s toy from the bag.

Anarchaia frowns at the toy, empathy filling her eyes. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

Jorick sets a hand on her shoulder. “Having a child doesn’t make someone a good person, Ana.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe not, but I’m sure he was good in the eyes of his son or daughter…”

Grimory grunts as he lies down on his pack. “Gods’ sakes, Ana.”

She folds her arms. “I can’t be the only person to think about these things.”

Koltira purses his lips. He mulls over the toy for a moment longer, then tosses it into the fire. “What’s done is done.”

Anarchaia flinches as the fire flares up to engulf the little object. Her mouth opens in a silent gasp, appalled. She turns her red eyes on him and scowls, then quickly gets to her feet and stomps outside.

Grimory gives a snort and turns away from the fire.

Koltira watches her go but remains outwardly impassive.

Alisbeth purses her lips. After a second, she rushes out after the mage. “I bet it’s okay,” she says. “The kid. If there is one. Probably nowhere near here?”

“Probably not,” Anarchaia mumbles from her spot on the ground. She purses her lips tightly together, the lower one quivering. Her face lowers to hide in her knees. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

The death knight shakes her head and leans against the opening. “Nothing matters. And everything matters. Hey, how are you getting into the temple? It’s kind of an elves and demons only party in there.”

“I’m going to disguise myself as a demon and hope they somehow don’t notice,” the mage replies without looking up. “Only until we can lure Grim out and back to here.”

Alisbeth grins her usual, big grin—which turns out slightly less unsettling with her living appearance—and looks down at the mage. “You tricked me before. I bet you can trick them.” Her grin widens. “By the way, you’re really pretty. I keep forgetting you’re a monster! Does this face trick you?” She pinches her own cheeks.

The mage looks up at her, still forlorn, but forces a small smile. “Yeah. It does. You’re always really pretty, though,” she says, not without a bite of jealousy. “And thanks. Hopefully you’re right.”

Alisbeth nods awkwardly for a moment, then pats the mage’s head. “Okay. Good talk. Goodnight.” She goes inside to sit beside the dozing demon hunter.


	13. Chapter 12

Kel’ori snorts awake to the wailing of Bel'theas. She lifts him to find blood staining his lips and teeth. A quick inspection reveals a row of puncture marks along his lower lip. “My poor baby,” she redresses her upper half and gets out of the hammock to find a clean cloth. She wets it with water, then cools it with frost magic and sets it to his lip. The mage sighs and goes to the other room to find Baemalen still passed out on the tiger skin rug.

He stirs at the sound of footsteps, eyes lazily opening beneath the book. He shrugs it off, however, and closes them again without a second thought.

The infant mumbles to himself as he chews on the cold cloth. Suddenly it drops and he screams louder as he bites down on his lip again.

“Oh, sweetie, you gotta stop biting yourself.” Kel’ori cools the rag further as she opens the door and goes outside. “Let’s go for a walk, right?”

Baemalen quickly sits up. “Wh— I’m up! I’m up…” The book falls into his lap and he groans at the crying. He runs a palm down his face and stands to follow the sound. “Everything all right?” he mumbles.

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Just go back to sleep.” She adjusts the cloth, cooling a clean side to help soothe the injuries.

He blinks at her tone and takes a step closer. “Sure doesn’t sound fine.”

The mage holds back more tears she doesn’t want to cry, though hormones insist upon it. “He bit himself this morning and keeps biting down, making it worse. Newborns don’t usually have teeth, let alone fangs. I can’t heal him. I…don’t know what to do.”

Baemalen hums. “The orphanage used to use potatoes dipped in whiskey for teething babies.” He notices the turmoil on her face and sets a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to go get some…?”

“Whiskey?” Kel’ori nearly scoffs. “He’s an infant. There has to be something less…alcoholic than that. It can’t be safe… Can it?”

He chuckles. “It wasn’t enough to get them drunk or anything. Just enough to ease the pain and get them drowsy. But if you don’t like the idea, forget I said anything.”

She looks down at the crying boy as he moans into the bloody cloth. She wipes away his tears, her heart breaking for him. “Do you promise he’ll be okay? It won’t hurt him or anything?”

He gives a reassuring smile. “I’ve never seen any babies harmed by it. We actually bought some potatoes and I won some bourbon. Stay right here; I’ll go get them.”

Kel’ori purses her lips. “Okay. Let’s do that. I…hope you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. I know he seems to like you? Which is… He’s so different from a regular newborn.” She walks beside the man, gently bouncing Bel'theas in her arms, trying to calm him down.

Baemalen kneels beside the large pack of items and rummages through it. He pulls out a small bag of potatoes, then unrolls a leather roll of knives. “Of course I wouldn’t hurt him. What kind of monster would I be?” He pauses, then chuckles as he pulls out the bottle of bourbon. “I guess I’d be Lord Illidan.” He slices a piece of potato and pours the alcohol over it—just enough to cover it. He shakes off the excess and stands to hold it out. “And no, he isn’t. He’s half demon.”

Bel'theas opens his mouth for the potato. He cringes and babbles at the flavor, then stares over at the blood elf. His fingers grasp repeatedly at the man.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so kind to us. Thank you, all the same.” She reaches out to pat his arm, then stops and retracts, opting to smile instead. Her eyebrow peaks at the sack behind him. “Can I see what you got?”

Baemalen allows the baby to tug on his finger, then nods and takes him from her so she may rummage. “Why are you so suspicious of me? I can’t be nice to you simply because I’m a nice person?”

Kel’ori pulls things out of the sack one at a time. First she withdraws a coarse linen—unbleached and undyed. Her nose wrinkles as she sets it to the side and wipes her hands off, as though it left germs on her palms. The next is a bolt of low thread-count cotton, dyed a sickly shade of green. “Was that…the only fabric they had? Really?” She finds the sewing kit with everything she’ll need to get going, then the threads, which are only black and white. She opens her mouth to say something, but instead crooks her lips and sets them on the bolts. When she finds the makeup, a squeak pinches from her throat as she stops moving as though the sight has petrified her.

The man gives a sheepish grin as he watches. “I-I had no idea what you’d like. He said he could do it.” A small, nervous chuckle escapes him.

Kel’ori withdraws the pallet of greens, browns, and yellows. She stares at it in disbelief. “Literally any other colors would do. Any other colors. At all.” She pops open the mascara compact and cringes at the blue makeup paste within. She sniffs it and her frown deepens. “Cheap goop. That’s what this is.” She next finds the lipstick. “Oh, honestly, was he _even trying?_ ” She holds up one tube of orange lipstick, and one of a pale pink. She drops them to the floor and breathes steadily.

Bel'theas seems to feel the tension or his mother’s being unsettled and makes a small fuss.

Baemalen sets a thumb on the potato slice to keep it from falling out. “You…want us to go get some more?” His ears pull back, preparing for anything she may say.

The mage scoots back and stares at each horror in turn. “This… I… I should…probably just go myself. This. I can’t work with any of this. Maybe. I may be able to make something for Bel. The clothes Anarchaia bought are going to be too small, if he grows fast. But…it’s so rough.” She takes another few calming breaths. “Ugh. I just…” She shoves everything back into the bag. “I can’t look at it. Thank you, but no thank you.”

He does his best to keep his smile. “Right. Best not send some men to do a woman’s job, right?” he says on another nervous chuckle. “And you shouldn’t go by yourself. Some parts of Shattrath aren’t suited for lone, wandering women.”

“Men can do it just fine. Any one of my brothers would have grabbed colors that aren’t the literal worst. I guess I can understand how someone might go for a cheaper fabric to save gold. But did you feel this? This is the kind of fabric farmers wear. And it’s itchy. Do you want that? No, I bet you—” She purses her lips at the sight of the Illidari cradling and comforting her fussy child. “You must think I’m a spoiled bitch.” She sighs and moves from the items, but not too close as she remembers the way he recoils from her. “You’d be right. It’s no wonder you don’t seem to like me.”

Baemalen hides his offense through her onslaught behind a smile. He makes to apologize multiple times but never finds the right opening. His ears perk at her final line and his brow knits, his smile fading. “Don’t like—I _do_ like you. W-well as much as I can for someone I’ve known for a few days.” He frowns. “Why would you think I don’t like you?”

Kel’ori frowns at him. “Because you avoid me. I mean, not entirely. Just every time I get too close it’s like you’d like to slap me away.” She sighs and looks at the dying embers of the fire. “It’s okay. My family is just…huggers. Not everyone is okay with that.”

His face softens and he looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms to avoid looking at her. “I…didn’t even know. I’m sorry.” He thinks for a few seconds. “It’s not you. It’s me. I…guess I’m not as over it as I’d hoped.”

Her brow furrows. “Sorry? Not over what?”

He still avoids her gaze. He swallows, seemingly deciding whether or not to tell her. “What happened. At the orphanage.”

Her palm flies to her chest. “Were you beaten? Oh, gods. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll keep my distance.”

He shakes his head, his tongue thick in his mouth. “No.”

“I don’t understand. I mean, you don’t have to tell me. As you pointed out, we’ve only known each other for a few days.” She gives a reassuring smile. “If you want to go with me to replace this makeup…I could use the company.” She chews on the inside of her lip, hoping her changing the subject wasn’t misread in his discomfort.

His smile returns and he nods. “Yeah. I think I’d be more comfortable with that than allowing you to go alone.” He looks around. “I don’t know where Venny went. We may have to walk?”

Kel’ori smiles, though curiosity gnaws at the back of her mind. “Venny?” she asks on a laugh. “I take it you two bonded over the trip?” She looks around as though the aspect is hiding in a corner. “Um. He came into the room before I fell asleep. I haven’t seen him since. I’d…rather not walk. Dangerous and all. Bright side, once I’ve been there once, I can take us back.” She packs up the sack, readying to leave. “I’ll just set this by the door. Though you may want to get your things out. Most merchants will accept exchanges, just have to bat your eyelashes at them.” She frowns. “Though I usually already have makeup on, so they fall for the whole pretty face thing.”

The blood elf smiles endearingly down at her. “You’re pretty enough without.” He chuckles and hands over the baby for swaddling. “Venny?” he calls and the dragon materializes in one of the hammocks. “Oh. Neat. So, we’d like to take a trip back to Shattrath.”

“Yeah, I heard. You have one hour.” He lifts a hand, waits for Kel’ori to get situated, then snaps his fingers.

Baemalen steps to the side as he’s almost run into by a cart and merchant. “Now where to begin…”

Kel’ori holds Bel'theas close, wishing she’d grabbed the papoose. “You say I don’t need it, but it’s not about what you think,” she says to Baemalen as she follows him through the city. “It’s about how I feel. I…haven’t felt myself since… And I just thought putting on makeup would make me feel…normal.” She sidles closer to speak low. “How much gold do we have? I don’t want to overspend. I’m…used to a higher quality of items. Much higher. More expensive.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Enough. Don’t worry about the money. I can get us more.” He glances at Bel'theas and hums in thought. “Perhaps a covering for him, first. He’s adorable, but I think there are some who won’t agree.”

Kel’ori lifts the blanket to cover the infant’s horns. He coos, then yawns and closes his eyes. “They wouldn’t harm an infant…would they?”

The Illidari cringes. “I’d like to think not. But I’d also like to think that cake doesn’t go straight to your thighs.” He gives her a sad smile, then gestures to a draenei man sitting on a carpet surrounded by bolts of cloth of all colors and patterns. “I’ll hold him. Take your pick.”

She gently hands him the sleeping baby, then turns to the man with the fabrics. After examination, she furrows her brow. “Your silk is overpriced.” She looks up at him, but his eyes are on her cleavage as she bends over the bolts. She smirks and gets the bolts of cheap cloth from Baemalen, then bends over directly in front of the man. “Tell you what, I’ll trade you back these for a few fabrics of my choice.”

“What does your husband think?” he grunts, eyeing the Illidari.

She giggles and bats her lashes, even though he’s not looking at her face. “He’s not my husband. If you do this, I won’t tell your other customers how much more you’re charging them for their cloth than you should be.”

“Is that a threat?” he demands, finally looking up at her.

She smiles sweetly. “Do I look like someone who would threaten a hard-working salesman? Please. Let’s just keep this between us. I just need some fabrics at a fair price. Okay?”

He grunts and nods. Kel’ori hums as she feels and checks each fabric. Her facial expressions range from disappointed the mildly interested. Finally she takes several bolts up with her magic, then summons some dye to the collection, as well.

“You’ll be paying for that dye, missy.”

She scrunches her nose and smiles innocently. “Will I, though?” She blows him a kiss and returns to Baemalen. “Would you look at that. Had plenty of gold for all this, with still so much leftover. Imagine that!” She wiggles her fingers in goodbye as they continue to another vendor. “Cosmetics?”

The blood elf lifts his eyebrows, impressed with her guile and manipulative tactics. “See? I told you you don’t need any makeup to be charming.” He smirks at her and leads her down the road towards the Scryers’ end of the city. “Dare I say you’re more beguiling than I. Perhaps we should take you down to the underbelly and see what you can win us.” He leads her into a small building with beaded curtains serving as a door. Incense wafts about and a fountain in the corner trickles quietly. “Cosmetics,” he says, waving her in with a hand.

Kel’ori giggles into her fingertips. “That wasn’t charm.” She goes to the woman at the table and holds out the makeups. “I was wondering if I could return these? My friend—”

“No returns,” the draenei barks.

“But I haven’t us—”

“No returns.”

Baemalen clears his throat. He gently nudges the high elf aside and sets the baby in her arms. “Perhaps returns aren’t in your policy, but how about a trade?” He pulls a small pendant from the inside of his shirt and dangles it before the woman as he leans over the counter.

The woman glowers up at him. “Perhaps. What is it?”

“Oh, nothing special. Just a bit of genuine Silvermoon craftsmanship. The locket is sealed so tightly that no one knows what’s inside. I, myself, have never been able to open it, but perhaps you…?” He thinks, then waves a hand, standing upright again. “No. Maybe not—”

“Fine. You get two palettes.” She holds out her hand.

He takes the necklace off and dangles it but does not let go. “Four.”

“Two.”

He purses his lips. “Four.”

“Two and a choice of rouge.”

He releases the necklace. “Deal.”

The woman curls her fingers around the piece but hides her curiosity. “Deal.”

Kel’ori passes Bel'theas back and goes through the makeups. She finds what she wants and sets it on the table. “And these two,” she says, adding liner and mascara to the items. Her eyes continue to wander over the shop’s contents, as though she’d like nothing more than to take it all.

After Baemalen pays the difference, they exit back into the streets.

The mage looks at him, her lips pursed. “I wasn’t going to ask you in there, but, that wasn’t…your sisters, was it?”

He looks down at her from the corner of his eye. A forlorn expression crosses his features. “Sure was.”

She scowls and cannot look him in the eye. “You shouldn’t have done that. How much time do we have left?” She pauses to stare longingly at a fruit stand.

He smirks at her. “That’s why I didn’t.” He pulls the same locket from his breast pocket and chuckles before replacing it and pulling out his pocket watch instead. “Mm. About ten minutes.” He looks up at the salad and is suddenly reminded of how hungry he is as well. “You want it?” he smiles at the elf at the stand and tosses his last gold coin onto the table. “Take it.”

“How did you—” Kel’ori looks at the food and at the lonely coin. Her stomach growls. She smiles. “Thank you.” She takes the bowl of assorted fruit chunks. Before she can start eating, however, Bel'theas pouts away and begins a quiet, annoyed cry.

The blood elf takes the child again and purses his lips curiously. “Guess he hates fruit.”

A passing draenei woman glances into the swaddling and cringes back. “What is that thing?!” she cries. “Its eyes…they’re black!”

Bel'theas, startled by the commotion, cries out loudly.

The woman grabs onto her husband. “And fangs!”

Baemalen pulls the baby closer and steps closer to Kel’ori. “H-…he was orphaned,” he says with a nervous smile.

A small gathering has crowded near. “Well you should have let it die!” one man shouts.

Kel’ori bursts into tears and takes the infant urgently into her arms to protect him. He breaks free from the swaddle as she presses him to her collar. The blanket falls away from his head to expose the two brown horns. A woman behind the mage screams out in horror, causing Bel'theas to scream into Kel’ori’s ear.

“It’s an abomination!” a man shouts.

“A demon!”

“What kind of people take in a demon!”

“They’re Legion conspirators!”

“Kill them!”

“Kill the demon!”

The mob presses closer. Kel’ori’s heart races and she raises her hand, prepared to blast the lot of them with arcane.

“Bae? What do we do?”

“ _Stop!_ ” An older draenei steps into the circle with the three, causing the others to go silent. “It is a _child_. Are all of you mad? An infant is not good. It is not evil. It is innocent.”

“It’s a demon! They’re all evil!” someone calls from the back.

Baemalen shakes his head. “That’s not true. In the Black Temple we have demons that have defected and joined us!”

“The Illidari are traitorous scum!”

“You’re as disgusting for working alongside them!”

The sin’dorei pulls his ears back and throws a smile over his shoulder. “Tough crowd.”

The mage fires a warning arcane missile at the ground in front of the crowd. “Don’t come any closer!” she screams through her tears. “I’ll kill you all before I let you harm my son!”

Baemalen’s face turns to one of slight terror as he backs away from the spot along with the rest of the crowd. The masses grow angrier and converge in on the trio, but before any of them can throw out a hand to grab at them, the mage, Illidari, and infant disappear in a shower of golden sparkles.

“Have a nice trip?” Vendormu asks boredly as he files his nails.

Baemalen rubs a palm over his mouth and chin, then lets his hand fall to his side. “Y-…yeah.”

Kel’ori falls to her knees, shaking from a mixture of fear and anger. She struggles to hold the flailing Bel'theas, who is screaming and crying as loud as his lungs can project.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. My poor baby. Why? Why are they so cruel?” The rattle appears in her fingers and she shakes it, trying to sooth him even a little; he bats it from her grasp and continues screaming. “What do you want, then?” shouts in desperation. “I don’t know what you want!”

Vendormu furrows his brow and stops what he’s doing to give the two a curious look. “I take it you won’t be going back.”

Baemalen shoots the man an unimpressed look and he sinks to a knee beside the frantic woman. He cautiously reaches to take the baby out of her arms. “It’s all right,” he says, not to either one in particular. “They’re not worth crying over. They’re just ignorant people who are afraid of the unusual.”

Kel’ori stands and runs from the room and out of the barracks. She stares around at the barren land and just screams out. In a fit of anger, she throws arcane missiles in random directions. One explodes a few of the logs in the lumber pile, another takes a chunk from the corner of the building. The shed receives two, and due to its age, it collapses into a heap. The rest of her missiles harmlessly crash into the ground and the nearby hill. She falls to her knees again, feeling the drain of using so much energy and not having the ley lines of Azeroth to replenish her. After a moment to let her tears quietly drip from her face, she stands and walks slowly back inside.

The Illidari is holding the baby close, having finally gotten him quiet by allowing him to chew and suck at a lock of his hair. He gives the woman a wide eyed, concerned look when she returns. “A-are you all right? We heard explosions.”

She huffs. “I’m fine. And I’m hungry. And I bet you two are hungry. And he’s hungry, and it’s making my— He’s hungry.” She waves her hands like they won’t get anymore details, half knowing they wouldn’t ask, anyway. She drops into a hammock. “I spent too much energy out there.”

Baemalen swallows a sigh and stands. He offers the baby back to his mother. “Perhaps you should take care of him and I’ll make us something to eat.” His smile widens some and he sets a hand on her shoulder. “Just relax.”

The mage shrugs the man’s hand away as it rests where the faintest of scars wraps around the front of her shoulder and the back as little dots and lines. “Yeah. I’ll do that.” She purses her lips and turns away. “Thank you for your help today.”

The Illidari retracts his hand, somewhat taken aback by her coldness but not giving it any further thought. He nods. “It was no trouble.” He retreats into the next room to rummage through their cooking supplies.

Vendormu scoffs from his hammock. “That boy is too damned nice.”

Kel’ori’s gaze snaps to the aspect as she prepares to feed the impatiently moaning infant. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

He looks over at her from his book. “He’s put up with a lot. Nearly died. Now serves to help you take care of your sniveling baby. And doesn’t ask for anything in return.” He releases a small laugh as a puff through his nose. “I wouldn’t stand for it.”

The mage sneers. “I didn’t _ask_ him to.” She stands, wrapping the papoose awkwardly around herself using her one free hand. She situates Bel'theas inside, where he continues to nurse. “I don’t understand why he likes you so much.” She stomps from the room, closing the door harder than necessary. She gets to the main room and purses her lips at the man. “Get out. Go spend time with your friend or do something—anything. I can do this myself.”

Vendormu chuckles to himself and again melts into his surroundings and out of sight.

Baemalen visibly jumps at the loud bang. Eyes wide and confused, he slowly gets to his feet. “I…can handle this?” he says hesitantly, spoon still in hand.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says hautily. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help.” She holds out her hand and the bourbon from the bag appears in it. “Share a few drinks with that insufferable lizard. Maybe it’ll make him less of an ass.”

His bright green eyes flit between her face and the bottle. He purses his lips and relinquishes the spoon for the bottle. “Since you asked so nicely,” he says with a smile, and disappears back into the sleeping quarters. He blinks when he sees that the aspect is again missing and sighs. Bottle to his lips, he throws himself into a hammock.

Once he’s left the room, she lets out a breath and sinks into the chair, her energy lower than before. “I don’t need help,” she says.

Bel'theas’s eye opens to look up at her.

“We don’t need anyone else. Right? Just you and me.” Her chin quivers and a tear rolls down her cheek as saying it fills her with a hollow loneliness.

Without bothering to wipe her cheek, allowing more tears to fall, she continues making the meal, until she’s simply too tired. She removes it from the fire so it doesn’t burn, then lays down on the tiger skin rug with her baby beside her. His eyes drift closed, and hers soon after.


	14. Chapter 13

“Grim.”

The demon hunter groans and opens his eyes.

“It’s time to go,” Anarchaia says quietly, not wanting to wake the other two men. “Ali. Are you ready?”

Grimory sits up and redresses in his leg armor. “Sunrise?”

She gives a tentative shrug. “I think? It’s starting to lighten.”

Alisbeth hops from foot to foot, her excitement barely contained behind her pursed lips.

Grimory nods to her, amused by her pacing. “Leave your weapons, yeah?”

Koltira takes the mage by the waist. “Be careful in there. Please.”

Anarchaia flushes and opens her mouth. A flash of the burning toy slips back into her mind’s eye and she purses her lips. “I will. Even if I’m discovered, I doubt they’d kill me.” She steps away and her form morphs into that of a succubus. “Take care of these two, please. They aren’t as strong as you.”

He goes to her as the three exit the cave. “Ana…” He pauses, seeming to reconsider what he was going to say. “Yeah. I will.”

The mage lets her gaze linger on him for a moment longer before turning away and following the elves. _If he really cares, he can tell me_.

Alisbeth squeals as they move away. “This is so exciting! I wonder how much of the temple I’ll get to see this time? Oh! Oh! Can we visit the grumpy recruiter guy and just spit at him? Can we?”

Grimory’s ears perk and he grabs Alisbeth gently by the upper arm. “No. You have to pretend to be a good recruit, yeah? Or they’ll kick you out. Don’t even talk to Lord Illidan.”

She pouts. “Aww. No fun!”

The trio arrives at the temple after a short walk. The death knight stops to gape at it.

“It looks…different from this angle. So, how do we get inside?”

Grimory strides past her to gesture to the structure and the steps leading up and around. “The stairs.”

Anarchaia gives a quiet chuckle and nudges Alisbeth to follow. “Remember. We’re here to find Grim, get him out, then back to the barracks. Okay?”

“And Grim can’t touch Grim. I’m gonna rough you up!” she says. She punches his shoulder. “Then I’ll carry ‘you’ out and we leave but you stay here and do…things. I forgot the rest. Why are we here?”

“I need to gather intel, maybe even stop the assassination.” He rubs at the place she’d punched him.

“Stop.” An Illidari guard, brow furrowed behind a blindfold, holds out his glaive. “Oh. It’s Silversong. Don’t recall you going on a trip outside the temple.”

“Were you on duty last night?”

“No.”

“I’d left last night. I have a new recruit I picked up in Shattrath. And a succubus I’ve convinced to come back with me.”

The man seemingly scrutinizes the women, then steps aside. “Right. Training starts in a couple hours. Best get to your quarters. Show these two to theirs first.”

Alisbeth grins wide at the guard. “I get to have horns! Won’t I look so cool with horns? Grim says I don’t really get to, but I want them and I don’t think he can stop me.” She nods emphatically. “I like yours.” She reaches up to touch his horn with a single finger.

The guard jerks his head away. “Get moving.”

“Kay!” She runs ahead of the other two. “Move it or lose it! Hey, I wonder if that one nice demon hunter is here. She was nice. I should go find her. Do you remember her name, Grim?” She waves a dismissive hand then continues running up the stairs.

Grimory nods at the familiar faces, then perks and follows. “What? Who?”

Anarchaia scans the crowd nervously, unsure of what will happen if the two Grimorys happen to be seen together. “Let’s move quickly.”

Alisbeth skips ahead, enjoying the sights and waving to the people. She waits at a cross-hall as the other two catch up. “So. Remember where you were today? What should I do to get you out of the temple? Would carrying an unconscious person raise suspicions? I mean, if you were anything like you are now I could just lift my shirt and you’d follow me anywhere.” She scrunches her face in a silly grin up at him.

Grimory knits his brow, mildly offended. “I wasn’t.” He blinks. “Wait, that’s it. Ali, you have to go to the mezzanine on the lower floor. I should be training there, still. Spar with me and knock me out, yeah? Then offer to take me to the infirmary.” He looks at Anarchaia. “It’ll be hard to get me past the guards out front so you’ll have to disguise me.”

She purses her lips. “As what?”

“I don’t know. Can you cast illusions as inanimate objects?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I know of.”

Alisbeth runs off, then stops. Her eyes dart left to right and she spins around. “The what in the where? Y’know what, I’ll find it.” She bolts off again, running through the temple until she crashes into a young Illidari.

The woman holds the crate of potion bottles above her head and yipes as she stumbles back. Alisbeth grabs the collar of her shirt, fingers jammed into the deep cleavage, and keeps her from falling. The woman straightens and huffs as she brushes back her pearlescent ivory hair.

“Sorry! Sorry. Probably my fault, please don’t—” She looks Alisbeth up and down and grins. “New recruit?”

“Yes. Very new. The newest.” Alisbeth scrunches her eyes. “Something kinda familiar about you.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ve met bef—”

“Oh! The sparring area. I need to get there. I have to fight a guy.”

The woman laughs. “All right, all right. Take the staircase on the left, then take your third right and go down those steps. And good luck. I hope to see you around. I’d hate for another pretty face to end up dying.”

Alisbeth points emphatically at her. “I have no intention of dying again. Good to meet you. I’m Alisbeth!” She shakes the woman’s hand.

She laughs, a small blush touching her cheekbones. “Asheeda.”

“Kay, bye!” Alisbeth rushes past her, then stops, her eyes narrowed as she looks over her shoulder at the woman.

“Good luck!” Asheeda waves, picks up her crate of vials, and continues down the hall.

“Waitaminute.” She jolts back to her task. “The mezzanine!” She manages to follow the instructions given and ends up in the training room. It takes her a moment to find Grimory’s blond hair, where he’s locking in combat with another elf. She weaves through the paired off Illidari and shoves the other blood elf hard enough to throw her a good few feet.

“Hi Grim! I’m gonna beat you up, now, okay?” She leaps at him, ready to wrap her arms around his neck.

Grimory’s eyes widen as his sparring partner is pushed aside. He backpedals quickly away from Alisbeth, then brings a hand up to clamp tightly around one of her wrists before she can throw a punch. He stops, looking into her face intently. His fingers loosen and he steps back. “…Diori?”

She purses her lips. “Balls.” She covers her face. “Nope. No. Wrong face. I just have…a face. _Don’t look at me!_ ” She jumps forward to punch at him.

He nimbly dodges the punch, leaning to the side. He furrows his brow further. “Why are you acting so strangely? How did you find me?” He dodges her second strike, then brings up his arms to block himself, not wanting to fight back. “I have so many questions—stop hitting me!”

Alisbeth continues her assault, despite his thwarting of every blow. “You have zero questions. Stop asking. Stop talking.” She notices that slowly the two are spinning, putting the Illidari’s back to a stone column. She growls in frustration as he pushes her fist away yet again. “Grim, you’re supposed to let me knock you out. Stop fighting back!”

Grimory grunts and grabs her fist as it nears his shoulder. “Why do y—” The wind is knocked out of him as her boot hits him hard in his gut. He stumbles back. His head hits the pillar and the man falls to the stone floor like a sack of potatoes.

“She knocked out Silversong,” someone mutters from the crowd that’s collected.

“Grim!” An elf with chocolate hair tied back with a ribbon runs forward. “What is your problem?!” Kneeling at his side, she scowls up at Alisbeth.

The death knight scowls down at the woman. “Excuse me. You’re in the— I know you? No. Yes-no.” She notices the attention on her, then remembers her assignment. She shoots her shoulders up to her ears and smiles innocently. “Guess I don’t know my own strength? Lemme take him to the medic.” Without waiting for permission, she kneels down, then slings the man across her shoulders like a foal. “Don’t worry, I know the way. No need to follow me. Totally going to the medic that I know the way to.”

Illith’ra stands. “Oh no you don’t!” She takes a step forward.

“Calmwind,” Varedis growls. “Training ends in forty minutes.”

She turns. “B-but she—!”

“Fall in line. You’ll receive a new partner.”

Illith’ra looks quickly between the retreating Alisbeth and her trainer, then deflates and does as she’s commanded.

Alisbeth rushes through the temple. “You’re heavier than two sacks of grain. Wanna know how I know that?” She snorts and giggles to herself. “You weren’t supposed to see me again. I should have covered my face. Let’s just hope I hit you hard enough that you’ll forget. You… You wouldn’t like me this way, anyway.”

Anarchaia perks as she sees Alisbeth rush past the corridor she’s traversing. She runs after her, hooves tapping. “Ali!” she hisses. “Wait!” She grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the nearest empty hallway. “Tell me that’s the right Grim.”

She blinks at the succubus in front of her, then narrows her eyes. “Tell me you’re the right succubus, first.”

She gives the woman an unimpressed look. “Would the wrong succubus know who you are?”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes. “You make a valid point. I got the Grim. Now what?”

Anarchaia purses her lips at the blood dripping from the man’s blond ponytail. “If he’s still alive, we take him back out the way we came.” She taps her chin with a claw. “But we need to disguise him.” She looks around the vacant hallway, then steps into a storage closet. “Aha.” She dumps out a large burlap sack filled with battered helmets and other bits of worn armor. “Here, put him in here. We’ll have to move quickly. Burlap doesn’t breathe well.”

Alisbeth shoves the man in, then hoists him over her shoulders again. “Let’s go!” She rushes out of the temple with Anarchaia on her heels. Any questions directed at the two, she answers with a hasty “Can’t talk right now!” then continues on. Outside and around a corner, Alisbeth sets him down and opens the bag.

“Pretty sure I did not kill him. Ready?”

Anarchaia nods and takes the bag, using magic to hold it up. Her illusion falls from herself like cold smoke. “Can you find your way back okay?”

“To the cave? Yeah!”Alisbeth grins as the mage disappears, then her smile falls. “I forgot. Oh! Grim knows.” She rushes back into the temple to search for the demon hunter.

Anarchaia appears in the center of the sleeping quarters of the barracks and stumbles. She catches herself on a table, then panics and catches the bag just before it hits the stone floor. She groans, tired. “Kel’ori…”

Baemalen jerks awake at the commotion. He immediately puts a hand on his head. “Urg. She’s…in the other room.” He eyes the suspicious sack tiredly. “You need help with that?”

She shakes her head. “Just Kel. Heh. Sorry.” She practically drags herself and the unconscious Illidari into the next room. “Kel.”

Kel’ori pushes up from the rug. She goes to the hallway and gasps, then takes the huge sack into her own magic. “Can you stay with Bel?” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she takes the bundle outside and down into the cellar. She uses her magic to shackle his wrists and ankles, then rushes from the darkness, stopping to catch her breath before going inside. “Ana, you should eat something. You don’t look well.”

Anarchaia shakes her head weakly and hands the baby back. “No. Taveth is going to call for me at any moment. I need to get back to the temple.” She smiles up at her. “Make sure you keep him fed and watered. He’s your pet, now.”

Kel’ori deflates some. “I’ll try. I just… Grim…in the dark…” She swallows, then undoes her dress for the pouting infant. “How has the mission been going?”

“Just keep reminding yourself that he can’t hurt you.” She sighs and sets herself in the large armchair. “You’re actually more powerful than he in this state…” She glances at the new clock above the fireplace. “It’s going well. Just need to scout the temple.” She closes her eyes. “How are you?”

She giggles. “I don’t feel any sort of strong right now. I may have lost my cool and expended too much energy. I don’t feel like I’m recharging even a little.” She conjures two apples and gives one to Anarchaia. “This helps…a little.”

The human girl smiles and accepts the snack. “Yeah. This place is awful. At least on Argus I felt _something_ to tap into. Here…nothing.” She sighs and takes a bite, then relishes the sweetness. “I hope Ali makes it back to the cave all right.”

“How are you supposed to get back?” Kel’ori asks. She sets Bel'theas to her shoulder to burp him. “Please don’t puke on me.”

Anarchaia leans her head back and groans. “Taveth is supposed to summon me with his…thing.” She scrunches her face. “Warlock thing.”

Kel’ori spits a bit of apple down her chin as she laughs. “Adding ‘warlock’ doesn’t make that statement any better.”

Anarchaia pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s not into me like that,” she says on a laugh. She smiles and opens her eyes to give the other girl a sideways glance. “Though, if I’m being honest, if he _were_ …”

The high elf widens her eyes and drops her mouth open dramatically. “You like my _brother?_ What about you and Koltira? You do know he’s crushing on that sweet draenei he dragged to Stormwind, right? Eophen?” Kel’ori takes another bite and smiles as though the fruit seems sweeter alongside the gossip.

Anarchaia flushes and gives a sheepish smile. “N-no. I just think he’s cute, and just my type. A-and I love Koltira! Really, I do. With all my heart. But lately…” She frowns at the charm bracelet dangling from her wrist and takes it off to spin one of the little trinkets between her fingers. She smiles again. “Eophen though? Really? I figured there was something between them but didn’t realize it was mutual.”

“Lately what?” She makes a funny face down at Bel'theas as he gurgles up at her; he gives a scream of amusement in reply.

Anarchaia smiles tiredly over at the two and swallows another bite of her apple. “Mm. Nothing. I won’t bother you with my burdens.”

Kel’ori rolls her eyes. “Please. _Please_. I’m surrounded by men and _their_ drama. Plus…Yesterday was bad, and I could use something else to talk about.”

Anarchaia chews on her lip as she scrutinizes the apple in her hand. “Jorick--the older man with all the scars--and I have known each other since we were little. We dated for a while before I d—er—became a mage.” She slips the bracelet back on and looks up at the ceiling. “Koltira is…a very...possessive man.”

Kel’ori chews her bite as she contemplates this. “I mean…can you blame him? Look what happened with Ali. Maybe he’s afraid of losing you, too. I had a boyfriend once who pulled away when he started to think I was going to break up with him.”

Anarchaia shrugs. “Perhaps. He did the same to her, though. And it’s not just that. He’s just been…so short with me.” She sobers. “Maybe he’s getting bored of me,” she says softly. “How long before he does to me what he did to Ali?”

“Do you really think he will?” Kel’ori asks on almost a whisper.

Anarchaia purses her lips. “I don’t know,” she says after a moment. “When Ali regained her sanity for that short while before Argus… And the way I’ve caught him looking at her now.” She shakes her head. “Forget I said anything. How is…what was his name?” She glances at the clock.

“Ana…I don’t think he’ll…” She bites her lower lip in uncertainty. “Which ‘he’ are you talking about? This little booger? Who is _already_ holding up his own head.” She holds Bel'theas up and kisses his nose.

The infant screams in excitement.

“Do you mean Ven? Cause he’s an asshole. Or Baemalen? He’s nice. Ven says he’s too nice. Maybe he is. He keeps…taking Bel and just… Helping. When I don’t ask. And it’s nice and I _want_ to take advantage, but at the same time… He just reminds me of my youngest sister. She’s so giving. Never asks for help or tells you she’s overwhelmed. Just lets herself drown.”

The human watches the two and frowns, yearning and jealousy stinging her heart. She takes another bite to take her mind off it. “Baemalen. Yeah. And that’s good! Isn’t it? It’s just what you need and the timing is perfect.”

“Bel seems to like him, too. I just… I’m strong. I can do it alone.” The mage nods once, though she still appears apprehensive.

Anarchaia smiles. “Maybe. But you know what’s better than having cake? More cake.”

She sighs. “It’d be easier without Ven. Pretty sure he can hear me say this—because somehow he hears everything, even though he’s nowhere to be found—but, he just seems to want to make me miserable. Make me feel guilty. And the shitty thing is that it works. Last night I should have been resting, like you.” She lets out a long breath. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The younger mage gives a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure he’s just trying to ruffle you. I wouldn’t let it get to you.” She finishes her apple and tosses the core into the fire, then stands. “I-…” She clears her throat and taps her fingertips together. “I could help you. I-if you’d like.”

“Help me? With what?” Kel’ori asks.

Bel'theas leans forward and wraps his mouth around the apple, sinking his fangs into the flesh of it.

“Ack, no! You’re too small for that!” She carefully retrieves the little bits he’d bitten free.

He pouts and leans to the apple again, but his mother moves it. He screams out and then begins to cry in frustration. Kel’ori flinches at the shrill sound, but otherwise just lets him cry.

Anarchaia stands and goes to them. “Help with him.”

The baby quiets some in curiosity as the girl nears, then scrunches his face and cries harder and grabs at his mother when she holds out her finger for him to take.

She retracts her hand, her heart breaking just the tiniest bit. “Or not. Heh. I-I guess I’m kind of scary looking.”

Kel’ori does her best to soothe the child. “That’s just Ana. She’s a friend.” She frowns. “It might be your hair, actually. I’m just guessing, of course, but, Ven terrorized him the other day with a ball of bright white light.”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “It’s all right. Babies and animals don’t seem to like me much…anymore.” She straightens and folds her arms. “What happened yesterday?”

She purses her lips. “We went to Shattrath. Let’s just say they didn’t take his appearance too well.” She looks at the clock and at the fading day outside. “Shouldn’t you have gone back by now?” She glances down the hall. “I hope Bae is okay…”

The human glances at the clock before nodding. “Yes.” She blinks. “Oh. Want me to check on him?”

Kel’ori waves her hand. “I’m sure he doesn’t want me worrying after him. It’s okay.”

Anarchaia gives a small shrug. “If you say so. Have you two been getting along at least? Despite the _being too nice?_ ” She gives another nervous glance at the clock.

“We do. We get along great, actually. I like spending time with him. We made a great team in the market.” A small smile tweaks her lips as she thinks on it.

She gives the two a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be honest. While I, myself, am not fond of what he is, I must admit that he’s as fascinating as he is adorable.” She sighs and collects herself. “Guess I’m sending myself back. You guys be safe.” She waves and in the next second is gone.


	15. Chapter 14

Taveth grumbles awake. He rubs his eye and looks around. “Oh. They already left?”

“Yeah,” Koltira says simply. He throws another rock against the wall. It tumbles back to him and he pulls it into the collection of pebbles between his spread legs.

Jorick inhales slowly but keeps his eyes shut. “Could have at least said goodbye. Hope they don’t die.” He sits up and stretches. “How long do you think it’ll take them?”

Koltira smacks another stone to the wall. “Couple hours, maybe? Taveth is supposed to do that summon-y thing I don’t want him to do. Ana said she’d give some kind of signal.” He throws another stone. “I’m sure Taveth knows what’ll happen if this goes south in any way that is his fault.”

Taveth flinches. “I remember when you called me a friend.”

“Yeah, and then you offered to use unstable fel magics on the woman I love.”

Jorick rolls his eyes. _Now he cares_. He stands and stretches. “Welp. In any case, we’ll probably need a way to subdue this past Grim if he wakes up? Or does Ana actually plan on teleporting us all back?” He cracks his knuckles and smirks. “I know some methods.”

The death knight shakes his head. “To my knowledge they are teleporting him once off the grounds, then Ana and Ali will be coming back here to join us in the grand adventure of _waiting_.”

Jorick scratches at a cheek and looks out at the land beyond the cave mouth with bemused eyes. “Fun. So…what until the waiting game?”

Koltira blinks at the human. “We wait.”

Taveth clears his throat gently. “I still consider you a friend, either way.”

Jorick turns his unamused stare on the death knight, then turns to smile at Taveth. He takes up his dagger but leaves the rest of his armor behind as he goes to the front of the cave to observe the valley.

“It’s been quiet all morning,” Koltira says. “Let’s hope it stays that way. At least for a little while longer.”

Taveth takes out a journal with a golden number _9_ on the spine. He sighs and writes something on a clean page, then stares intently at it, as though something else might happen.

Some time later, Jorick slowly stands as a small group appears in the distance, just visible and advancing quickly. “Uh,” he calls as he backs inside. “We may be hosting a party we didn’t send invites out for.”

Koltira stands and makes ready. “Demons. I hope they’re not smelling those orcs. Burning the bodies would be a beacon to the whole valley.”

The human curses himself for not putting on his armor earlier and decides he doesn’t have the time to do so now. He unsheathes his sword instead and tosses the belt aside. “I feel like just walking here made us a beacon for the entire valley.”

A colossal ball of green flame tears through the center if the cave, narrowly missing the men and crashing against the back wall. A Doomguard, bookended by packs of imps, stomps toward them, sword in one hand and more fire in the other.

Taveth mutters and puts his things away, then withdraws his dagger. “Of course we’d get one of these guys when my strongest one is occupied. Keeshokin will have to do.”

A purple portal opens and Tryxora steps out.

“You’re not Kee—”

<<You’re too far away from the baby! I can’t get back! What if something happens when I’m not there to—>>

Taveth sets his hand over her mouth. “He has a mother. It’s not you. Now either help, or let Keeshokin come through, or both.”

She grumbles and walks back through the portal. A moment later, the felguard stomps through.

<<Why should I help—>> A fireball passes in front of his face. <<Oh, hey! It’s Irtho’zyn.>>

“Not a friend, is he?” Taveth asks, a note of hope in his tone.

<<He used to cheat at cards, before he disappeared.>>

“So…you don’t like him?”

The felguard shoves Taveth out of the way and stomps to the mouth of the cave.

Irtho’zyn grins as his minions bound in. He lifts his sword and it meets Keeshokin’s axe. <<Well well well,>> he laughs. <<Working for these pathetic worms? Go figure.>>

Jorick furrows his marred brows at the little demons bouncing toward them—particularly the one with no hand. It leaps at him and he steps aside, allowing it to fall face first into the still smoldering fire. He stomps a boot into the back of its head. “Maybe we _did_ invite these guys.”

<< _Working_ is not the term I’d use. Go figure that I’d find _you_ doing an imp’s dirty work.>> He pushes the other demon back and swings his axe around at the doomguard.

The doomguard chuckles as he catches the blade. His blood dribbles to the floor and he tosses it away. <<You certainly aren’t working for us. Traitorous coward.>>

Taveth watches from the back. “I mean…I maybe could enslave that guy. It’s how I got Spinewing to, you know…not kill me. And he’s much stronger.”

Koltira growls. “We really don’t need your warlock nonsense right now.” He grunts as an imp throws a fireball at his cheek.

The imp laughs triumphantly, then screams when the death knight chases him.

“Not sure what you’re on about, but you seem to know what you’re talking about. Worth a try?” Jorick slices through an imp’s throat when it leaps at him and its head bounces across the cave floor.

Koltira pulls the imp to him, then uses the flat of Byfrost to bat it into the cave wall. As it falls down, he presses it with his boot, then uses the flat tip of his sword to cut its head clean off.

“I…don’t know if I should. What if something bad happens this time? What if it’s only temporary? What if—”

<<Good gods, you’re a simpering worm,>> Thal’kiel growls.

“Maybe make up your mind?” Jorick grunts as a fireball washes over him, sizzling his arms and causing blisters to raise as he braces himself.

Ithro’zyn laughs and kicks Keeshokin across the cave. He stomps toward the three men, lifting his sword.

Taveth stands between the others and the doomguard. He utters a word not unlike that which he used to enslave Spinewing. After a moment, purple chains wrap around the demon and bind him in place.

Keeshokin stands. After a moment he begins laughing. <<You have no idea what you’re in for, Irtho’zyn.>> He claps a hand on Taveth’s shoulder, causing the elf to nearly stumble to the ground. <<Good thinking, welp. I think I’ll introduce him to Tryxora.>>

“Oh. You have… _fun_ …with that. Enjoy Tryxora. She, uh…likes her toys,” he says up to the doomguard as Keeshokin drags him, flailing and screaming demonic obscenities at them.

<<Quite the collection you’re building,>> Thal’kiel says. <<That wouldn’t be ambition, would it?>>

Taveth glares at the skull.

Jorick breathes heavily as the last of the imps are dispatched. “Well. Turns out that was pretty useful after all, eh?” He picks up his belt and returns his sword to its holster. “You’re some warlock, y’know that?”

Taveth shakes his head. “Not really.” He helps straighten their supplies in the cave.

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “Not really? And just how many warlocks do you know who've enslaved a doomlord?”

Taveth doesn’t respond.

“Not just any doomlord, a _demon hunter’s._ Now, accept the man’s compliment.” He grabs the various imp parts and takes them out of the cave to where he’d buried the orcs.

Taveth purses his lips and gives the human a nervous smile. “Thanks. Heh.”

Jorick chuckles. “Don’t mention it.” He touches one of the blisters on his arm and hisses. “A demon hunter? Wouldn’t happen to be our resident pretty boy, would it?” He rummages through their small hoard of supplies, then inwardly curses when he realizes that the healing potions are gone.

Taveth holds out a yellow, knobby stone to the mercenary. “You crush it and inhale,” he says as explanation. “And yes. Grimory. His demon is considerably stronger than most demon hunters have inside them. Enslaving him was…entirely an accident.”

“Saved the lives of himself, Ali, Ana, that incompetent healer they hired,” Koltira says. “And later Kel’ori…and Ana and Ali… _again_. And probably Grim.” Koltira drops down in the doorway again and collects up his pebble pile.

Taveth shakes his head and looks away, his ears turning red. “Stop, Koltira. I’m not a hero. Just a fool who makes convenient mistakes.”

Jorick gives the stone a look, then hesitantly hands it back. “I’m all for you warlocks being around and what you do, but I’ll kindly pass.” He lifts his eyebrows at the story. “That’s quite impressive. It sounds like you all have been in a few adventures. I assume it’s how you’ve all gotten to know each other.” He pulls out a roll of bandages and begins to wind them around his forearms.

Taveth takes the stone and stares at it. After a moment, he takes his satchel and goes for the exit.

“Don’t wander,” Koltira barks after him. He looks at the human. “Sensitive point. Don’t worry, we all push that button, whether we mean to or not.” He glances out the door, then growls and throws one final rock. “What part of don’t wander…” He chases after the scholar.

Jorick watches him go and throws some tinder onto the nearly dead fire. “Well, my untainted blood is a tad more important than his feelings,” he mutters to himself.

Koltira returns a few minutes later and shoves Taveth into the cave. “You can sulk in the corner, where I can safely protect you.” He drops back down. “Swear to gods, if I have to tell Ana you ran off and died because your feelings were hurt…”

“I said fine,” Taveth mumbles. “Staying here.” He withdraws his number nine book again and checks the page, then the surrounding ones. He growls in frustration and readies to throw it, then stops himself and shoves it back into his bag.

Jorick sighs as he chews on a small rasher of dried meat. “Look, bud. I didn’t mean anything by it. I ain’t got nothin’ against warlocks.”

Taveth nods without looking at the human. “Okay.”

Koltira throws a pebble at Jorick’s boot. “You. Tell us more about yourself. What great deeds have you accomplished?”

Jorick picks up the pebble and weaves it between his fingers while drumming his other fingertips against his chin. “Great deeds…great deeds…” He eventually shrugs. “I cut a cat down from a tree when I was a kid.”

"And your scars?” Koltira presses. “How’d you get those? More cats?”

The man chuckles. “Years of wear. Fights with contracts in my clumsier years. Before I was a merc, I hung around with a lot of…unsavory people. As a sort of initiation, you had to be in a little fight club.” His face grows pensive as a thought runs through his head. He ignores it and holds up his shortened pinky finger. “This one, though. _Reeaally_ big cat.”

Koltira humphs a laugh. “That your worst one? I don’t have many scars, but the worst…” He chuckles and peers out at the passing day. His brow lowers. “It’s almost evening. Ali should have been back by now.”

Taveth looks up from his journal, his features forlorn. “Do you think something happened in the temple?”

“I’d bet my life on it.” Koltira stands as though the height will help him to see better.

“Can’t bet what you don’t have.”

Koltira stares at the scholar.

“I-I’m sorry. That was—”

The death knight smiles and laughs. “Truer words, my friend.”

Jorick rolls his eyes when the death knight looks away. _So competitive, this one_. “That means Ana should have been back, too. I’m sure they just hit a snag.”

Koltira begins to pace. “Snag. Sure.”

“I’m sure everything is fine,” Taveth assures. “They’re both very capable women. I have the utmost faith in Ana. Ali…is debatable.”

Jorick shrugs. “She did mention that this place isn’t too mage-friendly. Just hope they didn’t get caught.” He chuckles nervously. “I don’t think they’ll _kill_ them, but I doubt possible spies are too welcome in there.”

Koltira frowns. “If we don’t see one of them by sun-down, I’m going in there.”

“On the bright side, your appearance may catch a lot of them off guard, like it did the orc,” Taveth says.

“Aye. Any elves who knew me in life might get a shock. Those who’ve never seen a death knight as well.”

“I’ll go with you,” Taveth says. “If nothing else, to command Grim out of hiding.”

Koltira nods.

Jorick lifts his eyebrows. “That’s probably not the best idea.” He smiles. “Which is why I’ll help.”

Koltira points without looking, his eyes trained outside. “Good man.”

~ * ~

Alisbeth grumbles as she realizes how lost she is.

“Hey! Recruit!” A tall Kaldorei with wide horns and a brown blindfold stops her. “You’re supposed to be at orientation.”

“I’m lost,” she says, grinning.

“Come with me.”

The Illidari takes Alisbeth to a room full of clothing. He picks out some unimpressive pieces in her size. “Get dressed.”

She opens her mouth to protest, then shrugs and does it anyway. After she is clothed, she settles a veil at her forehead that drapes to cover her entire face. “Do I look cool?”

He ignores the question. “Follow me.”

She spins to his voice and steps forward, running smack into the doorframe.

“Lord Illidan must be getting desperate,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m okay!” She adjusts and tries again, seeing only shadows and shapes through the black veil. She sits at the table as she’s pressed into the seat by the Illidari who, for some reason, hasn’t left her side. She stares at the plates and the food. “I actually had a big breakfast. How about if I—”

He plops a baked potato onto her plate. “Takes a lot of energy. Eat up.”

She looks around at the table of recruits, her lips curving to a frown as her heart warms at seeing a few faces she recognizes. “Th-thank you,” she sputters as he adds more food. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Aye. But they won’t get at me for helping recruits. I needed the break.”

When the helpful Illidari directs her to the recruit barracks after dinner, she bids him good night, then silently sneaks away toward the training room. After a moment of getting lost, and another of hiding in a closet as two patrols pass, she finds the place she’s looking for.

~ * ~

Grimory eventually makes his way to the mess hall, irritated about Illidan not having time for his important information. He realizes he’s scowling and has to inwardly remind himself that he needs to act like he would have twenty-three years ago. He forces a more neutral expression on his face and scans the tables. A familiar head of chocolate-colored hair beside a horned night elf makes his heart flutter. He swallows, inhales, and walks over.

“Grim!” Illith’ra stands to throw her arms around his neck. “You’re okay! I saw blood. Are you all right? How is your head?”

He takes a second to return her embrace, taking in the smell of her hair. He smiles when she pulls away. “Uh. Yeah. I’m fine. Just a bump.”

Eldon scoffs as he swallows his bite. “Out cold by a new recruit. What’s happened to you?”

The two blood elves sit. “Beginner’s luck,” Grimory says with a nervous chuckle.

Illith’ra giggles and scoots up against him. “Here, I got you a plate in case you were back in time.” She glances around to ensure none of the other recruits are looking, then leans up to kiss his cheek.

Grimory smiles and glances down at her. “Careful. You’re showing softness again,” he says with a smirk.

Illith’ra returns the look. “Can’t say the same for you.”

Eldon grunts. “Honestly.”

After dinner, the trio make their way back to their quarters. Illith’ra blinks at a familiar face in the corridor. “Hey, it’s the girl who knocked you out.” She points at the woman with glowing blue eyes beneath a blood knight’s helmet.

Grimory purses his lips. “Right. Haha. Go on ahead. I’ll be right there.” He takes Alisbeth gently by the upper arm. “What are you still doing here? Go back to the cave, yeah? They’re waiting for you.”

She gives him a queer, wide eyed look and opens her mouth to respond, but he’s already trotting after his friends.

Instead of turning into their shared room, Illith’ra pulls Grimory off toward the end of the corridor. “Extra training!” she calls to Eldon without his even asking. Once down the hall and down the stairs, she drags him onto their sparring platform and into the cool night air. She pulls him off to the side. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” she hums up to him, gazing through her eyelashes as she pins him against the wall behind a pillar.

He smiles as she presses a kiss to his lips and slips his arms around her waist. When she pulls away, he pulls her close to press his cheek to hers. He sobers, holding the back of her head. “I’m so sorry, Illie.”

She furrows her brow and laughs but returns the embrace all the same. “Did you hit your head that hard?”

“I guess so,” Grimory says quietly and pulls back to look into her face. They give one another a gentle smile. He leans down to press his lips again to hers, cradling her jaw in his hands.

Alisbeth pauses behind a target dummy, catching movement on the upper level. She quickly recognizes Grimory and smiles. She steps from her hiding place, then stops, her call to him caught in her throat as he leans to kiss a woman with brown hair. She watches a little longer as they lock in a passionate embrace. A tear rolls from one eye and she backs away, then runs back down the hallways.


	16. Chapter 15

Koltira scowls and leans out the cave opening. “Sun is almost down,” he says. “Let’s get—”

Something drops down in front of the opening, then sweeps around, sending dust and rocks into the cave and knocking the death knight back. When it settles and the men can see again, a figure stands in front of a crimson and black dragonhawk. She looks at each of them in turn, her glowing green eyes behind her blood knight helm taking them all in, giving extra attention to the elves—particularly the death knight.

“I take it you’re not here for a nice chat,” Koltira says.

He notes what little he can about her, save her gender. Her gear, battered with age and roughly repaired, resembles that of a blood knight. Above one eye is a dark eyebrow, the other cut off from a scar, as best the man can see. Attached to her helm is a hood which completely holds in any hair she might have; the hood connects to a long sweater in two lengths—longer at the back than the front. In her right hand she clasps a black and red spear of elven make.

“Wow. You’re actually here,” she says, her voice muffled and distorted by the piece of her helm covering her lower face; her tone, though, echoes through as one of pretentious disdain, rather than any sort of shock. “Well, then, I suppose we’d best just get to it, hmm?” She swirls her spear over her head and with a shout, leaps at Koltira, first.

He raises his arms to catch the impact on his vambraces. She withdraws too fast for him to grab the pole. She comes at him again, jabbing straight at his face. He swivels and withdraws Byfrost, hitting the spear away from him with a  _ clang  _ of clashing metal.

“Step in anytime, merc!” Koltira shouts.

“So I can kill you both at the same time?” the blood knight scoffs.

Jorick bounds forward to slide a kick into the woman’s ankle, sword and dagger in hand. “You seemed like you knew each other. I’d hate to break up a heartfelt reunion.” He gives a grunt as the dragonhawk barrels into him, sending him skidding.

“Only room for one crazy bitch in my life,” Koltira says. He grunts and blocks another blow with his sword.

The blood knight leaps through the air, lands on Koltira’s shoulders and jabs the tip of her spear through his pauldron, then backflips away. She flicks the spear to rid it of the dripping blood. “It’s easier if you stop fighting the inevitable.”

“Haven’t you heard? We’re hard to kill.”

The knight hisses. “You’re already dead, you filthy abomination.” She leaps for her next attack, this time aiming at the prostrate figure of Jorick.

“Harsh,” Jorick mutters, then tenses when she comes at him. He waits for the right moment to deflect her spearhead with his dagger, then brings the sword around, aiming for what he hopes is her neck behind the cowl. His hopes are in vain, however, as it bounces off the metal and she falls atop him, pinning him to the ground.

Anarchaia stumbles some as she appears, then tenses as she notices Koltira bleeding and running toward a mysterious figure standing over the mercenary with her spear poised again. She grabs at her own hair. “Aah! Who is that?!” She lifts a hand and, just before the spear can come down, knocks the woman away with a weak force of magic.

The blood knight growls and flips to her feet from her back. She stands and glares down at Taveth, who pauses in his search for his dagger. She kicks his satchel from his grasp, then turns back for the others. She tosses her spear up and catches it to hurl at the mage. Taveth scrambles up and lunges to block Anarchaia. The blood knight stops, spins, and sends the spearhead into the side of the mercenary’s knee to stop his progress toward her. She brings it back up. 

Jorick yelps and drops to his good knee as blood stains and seeps through his pantleg. “ _ Fffffffuck me _ ,” he hisses.

“Move, elf. You will not die this day," the woman commands.

His brow furrows. “Why not?”

Koltira uses his good arm to swing Byfrost around to take the blood knight’s head. She blocks with her spear and is knocked back, but recovers in a backflip. 

“Who the hell are you?” Koltira shouts. 

Her dragonhawk warbles from the doorway. “Looks like you all get to live one more day.” She rushes forward, then slides under Koltira’s swinging blade. She springs up, shoving Taveth and Anarchaia to the side, then leaps deftly onto her mount. With a shrill war cry, she kicks the dragonhawk’s sides and it flaps hard, pushing them up into the sky. 

When the dust settles again, Koltira deflates. “Son of a bitch.” 

A party of fel orcs marches along the road near enough the cave to see inside.

The human man groans at the sight outside. He pushes back to his feet albeit reluctantly. 

Anarchaia, already weary, goes to the cave mouth. “Who was that?” she asks to no one, readying herself for the next confrontation. “Ali isn’t back yet?”

“Ana, can you cover the cave opening?” Koltira asks. “We’re in no condition to fight that many orcs.”

“Like…?” She pauses, then nods. She lifts a hand and a purple veil lifts up from the dirt. It seals over the opening like a bubble.

The orcs stop as the figures in the cave seem to phase out of existence. The biggest one scratches his head. “Must be the heat,” he grumbles and directs his men back to the road.

The mage’s eyelids flutter as the last bit of her expendable energy is spent and her knees buckle beneath her.

Koltira lurches forward to catch the mage. He grunts in pain as she lands in his injured arm. The orcs outside stop and turn around. They walk closer to the cave, their eyes narrowed in curiosity. Koltira bites the insides of his cheek to keep from moving or crying out again as Anarchaia’s weight drags on his bleeding shoulder. Taveth’s eyes widen as he holds completely still. He turns his head to look at the mercenary, grimacing through his pain, and the mage, breathing and barely conscious as she keeps the illusion going.

After what feels like ages, the orcs return to the road and continue their journey. Koltira lowers the mage to the floor, then spits a pool of blood from his mouth.

“Ana. Ana!” He shakes her as he swallows more blood from his cheeks. “Drop the illusion, you’re nearly spent!”

Jorick exhales as he sinks to sit, wanting to go to his friend but finding he can barely move through the pain. “Is she all right? I didn’t see her get hit,” he calls quietly instead. 

Anarchaia groans and grabs at his shoulder. The veil falls and her head rolls back onto Koltira’s forearm.

The death knight growls. “Damn it all. She expended too much energy.” He does his best to carry her to a safer spot. “Where the hell is Ali?” He shouts at Taveth.

“I-I how am I supposed to know? Y-you’d know better than me where she could have gone!”

“Off being an unpredictable idiot,” Koltira says. “Whose idea was it to make  _ her  _ the messenger?”

“Demon boy’s,” Jorick replies coolly. He groans as he opens the cut to examine the depth of the gash. “Maybe she got lost on the way back.” He glances back at the motionless mage. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Koltira doesn’t tear his eyes away from her. “Normally she just needs some rest… But that’s usually a few days.” He sits back on his heels and glances at his shoulder. As carefully as he can, he takes off the armor and hisses though pulling his shirt over his head so he might see the wound better. “Damn,” he mumbles when he realizes the wound is too high up for him to see. He cradles the arm and sits beside Anarchaia, then presses his other palm to the wound.

“You’re a death knight, right? You can heal yourself with me if you want.” Jorick shrugs. “Unless that’s too awkward. Can’t imagine there’s a lot of life left in me, anyway.” He pulls out the gauze from his bag and wraps his knee.

“I’m not taking anything from you. Or you,” he snaps when Taveth opens his mouth.

“I wasn’t going to offer a stone,” the high elf says defensively.

“No to both.”

“If you bleed out and die, Ana will kill you,” Taveth says, making Koltira smirk. “Go. I saw some lone boars not far. I— We will watch Ana.” He nods to the human.

The death knight grunts and waits a moment, then shoves to his feet with one hand. “Shout if she wakes, though I won’t be long.” He takes Byfrost and exits the cave after peering above him, half expecting the blood knight to leap onto his head.

Jorick nods. “Of course.” He gets to his feet and groans as he makes his way over to the unconscious girl and sets himself beside her. “Too old for this shit,” he grumbles and sets his nearly empty pack beneath her head. He frowns. “Does she normally not breathe? It’s…unnerving.”

Taveth furrows his brow. “The undead usually do not, no. They have no need, except to speak.”

Jorick blinks slowly down at the woman beside him. “It’s just so strange to me. She looks just like she did, but…” The thought of her marred, stitched face comes to his mind and a realization strikes him. He looks away from her and into the small fire, guilt gripping his heart. He clears his throat. “How far back did he say he sent us?”

Taveth blinks as he opens his book yet again. “Uh…Twenty-three? I think?” He glances down at her face. “She was so young. Still is, but I mean… Still just as beautiful. That didn’t change, right?”

“Careful, Tav,” Koltira says as he steps back into the cave, his shoulder smeared with blood, but his wound healed. “I might start to think you’re getting ideas.”

“I-I wasn’t— I didn’t— You’re joking, right? Is that it?”

Koltira laughs and bends to get his shirt. “Scoot.” He slides in as Taveth moves over, then stares down, brows knit, at the sleeping woman.

Jorick sobers and he gives her a sideways glance before looking back out over the land. “Yeah,” he mumbles, mentally going through his head the lay of the land of the trip they’d taken. And, more importantly, where the portal had been. He grins. “Pretty interesting, though. If any of us really wanted to, we could give ourselves or others a second chance. I could probably stop my brother from becoming a priest. Or save my sister from her first abusive boyfriend.” 

Taveth shakes his head. “Any actions you take could dramatically change the future. It could make things worse. Our mission is to prevent changes to the timeline.”

“Listen to the geek,” Koltira says, his eyes closed, and one hand wrapped around one of Anarchaia’s.

“Could make it better, too.” The human glances at Koltira. “If you could stop what happened to you, wouldn’t you do it?”

“If I wasn’t a death knight, I’d just be dead. Most of the people I knew are dead. My brother would have still died, and his beloved before him.” He eyes the human. “I saw so much death when my people were massacred, and I see no way I could thwart any of it. Besides, I’ve done great things as a death knight.” He tilts his head to study the man. “What’ve you got in your past so terrible you’d risk possible catastrophic changes to the future?”

Though he was not asked, Taveth clears his throat. “I’d rescue more books from the Stormwind library before the orcs invaded.”

Jorick nods at Taveth’s musings, then chooses to ignore the question offered to him. “But if you could stop your brother’s death, then. Would you do that?”

Koltira swallows the hard knot in his throat and pauses for a minute on the distaste of the truth on his tongue. “Faltora wasn’t strong enough,” he says slowly, as though trying to refuse the words exit from his lips. “He wouldn’t have lasted the night, or the assault the next morning. After seeing what it was like, I didn’t want him to be a Farstrider…but he wanted to follow in my footsteps.”

Taveth sets a comforting hand over Koltira’s. The death knight allows it before casting the man a look. Taveth withdraws it and gives an awkward smile.

Jorick gives a small, knowing nod. “I suppose you’d know better.” He gives Anarchaia another glance, then gestures to her with his chin. “And her? Do you think she’d go back? Save herself?” He already has an idea of an answer but does not voice it, instead curious what her friends might say.

Taveth looks down at her as well. “As her friend and a fellow scholar, I’d have to say that first she’d make a list.”

“Two lists,” Koltira says on a chuckle.

“Yes.” Taveth laughs. “She’d list the pros and cons and stew over it for an insufferable amount of time, ask someone’s advice only to not listen to it, anyway. I think, though…her list of reasons to stay as she is might outweigh the ones for changing her past. Her apprenticeship; her friends…Koltira.” He swallows and frowns. “As much as it might hurt, I think she would choose to not change her past.”

Jorick hums a laugh and nods, then looks into the fire after running a hand through his hair. “She’d save her parents, though. I know that much.”

Taveth frowns, the furrow in his brow deep with painful thoughts. “Ali would, too. It’d be much farther back, but…if given the chance, she’d save them both.” He swallows and stares at the message he’d scrawled on the page, still unanswered. “I’d save my mother, if I wasn’t the one who killed her.”

Koltira sets a heavy hand on Taveth’s shoulder but says nothing.

Jorick gives the elf a sympathetic smile. “If you mean by birth, then it wasn’t your fault. It happens all the time.” He shifts and cringes as pain shoots through his leg. “Your mother would feel the way you do if it’d been you who had died. Would you want that? Also, how would you go about preventing your own birth?” He smirks.

The high elf shrugs. “I said I couldn’t save her. I think instead I’d just…want to meet her. Just once. Tell her I’m someone else and have a conversation. That’s all I’d want. And it wouldn’t change anything.”

“I think I’d go back and tell my brother I’m proud of him. I’m not sure he knew it,” Koltira says.

Jorick leans his head back against the stone wall, a shiver from the cold night creeping up on him. “I bet he knew.” He closes his eyes, but the lack of visual stimulation draws attention to the severe pain in his burnt arms and shattered kneecap, so he opens them again. “I have some fuck-ups I wouldn’t mind mending.”

“Starting with your current injuries?” Koltira asks with a smirk.

The man huffs a laugh through his nose but does not smile. “A few more scars ain’t gonna make a difference. And some of us don’t have tinkly witchcraft we can heal ourselves with.” He wiggles his fingers.

Taveth settles on his back, his bag under his head. “I don’t wiggle my fingers.”

“… _ Or _ wave a magic dagger.” He sighs. “Should have swiped more potions. I guess I just assumed everyone would be fine. Didn’t even think about myself.” He laces his fingers atop his stomach. “Could use a drink.” 

Koltira nods but says nothing. He forces his eyes to the cave entrance. “I’ll keep watch while you sleep.” He stands and redresses in his armor, then takes up his seat at the opening, Byfrost over his lap.

~ * ~

The blood knight stomps through corridors, leering at any who glance her way. She kicks in a door and hurls her spear at a dining Kaldorei. The sharp edge passes less than an inch from his ear, though he doesn’t move to avoid it.

“You were wrong about my targets. Or you lied.  _ One _ death knight; the mage was late;  _ no _ warlocks, just some helpless elf;  _ no _ demon hunter, and there was a  _ human _ with them. He was not on your list!” She paces back and forth in front of him. 

The man continues to eat his dinner, unfazed. “A human, you say?” He smiles at her. “Why are you so flustered about this?”

“You sent me in  _ blind! _ ” She circles behind him to yank her spear from the wall. “I could’ve died. Or do you even care?” She returns to pacing in front of him, twirling her weapon in one hand. “My price has doubled. I’m not killing the quel’dorei, not after… I’ll kill the others, as you asked, though. The mage is weak, so I’ll start with her. The human is no threat to me, so he can watch his friends die before I kill him. I’ll need to find the other death knight and the demon hunter. We could use the high elf, though; looked…scholarly. He might have information we can use. Physically I could beat him with both hands tied behind my back; probably both feet. Easy to capture.” She stares over at the elf still enjoying his meal. “ _ Are you even listening to me? _ ” She slams both palms onto the table, causing the silverware and dishes to rattle. Her green eyes pierce into his as her furious breathing echoes behind the mask of her helm.

The elf continues to chew his steak, again showing no signs of distress. “Mind your attitude if you’d be so kind.” He sets his utensils down to interlace his fingers and stare into her helmet with calm, azure eyes. “A few things. One, don’t underestimate the mage—that would be a dire mistake. Not only that, but the death knight and mercenary would make that difficult. You can’t go about it as though they’ll just queue up to take you on. Two, you’ll dispose of them  _ all _ . If any of them remain, it could throw a wrench in my cogs. If you want extra pay, then you’ll have it.” He sips his wine. “And three, I’ve decided to sweeten the deal altogether.” He sets the steel goblet aside. “Kill my brother as well, and you’ll have anything you desire.”

The blood knight reaches up to twirl one of his hanging verdant tresses. “Anything? Let’s say we skip the high elf in exchange for your brother.” She wraps the hairs around her index finger, then gives it a pull. “Before I go, though, are there any other surprises you’d like to tell me about? Other players in this little game…or maybe their hideout? Hmm?” She releases his hair and tilts her head. “Don’t tell me it’s the cave. They’d have more supplies. And only an idiot would make permanent camp so close to the Black Temple.” She takes a grape from a nearby bowl as she straightens, then pushes it beneath her mask.

The man readjusts his locks with his fingertips. “Hm. Kill the rest and we’ll see how I feel. Is that a good enough answer for you?” He sighs and swirls his drink around the in the glass. “I’m not sure. They appeared on the peninsula, so perhaps an abandoned place there? I cannot pinpoint the location without going near, and if I do Vendormu will sense my presence.”

“I’ll find them. And I’ll bring you his head on a silver platter, if it please you.” She lifts her spear and turns back for the doorway. “Don’t ever keep information from me again.” She leaves with the open threat still heavy in the air.


	17. Chapter 16

Kel’ori finishes the new stew and spoons some into the metal mug. She sets it on a tray with a battered spoon and a small wooden cup filled with water. She takes the napping Bel'theas to the barracks and lays him in an empty hammock. She scrutinizes the nearly empty bottle tucked beside the Illidari as he sleeps, and frowns but leaves him to his rest. She takes the tray out to the cellar door and opens it with her magic, then slowly descends. At first she’s unsure if the man is awake. The lanterns on the wall ignite for her and he looks up.

She clears her throat. “It’s hot,” she warns and sets the food before Grimory, then hops backward as though he might leap forward to grab her. She smooths her palms over her skirt as her heart pounds. “I’ll get some firewood,” she motions at the little stove in the corner, “if you’re cold.”

Grimory looks from the mug to the woman in front of him. “How did I get here? What do you want with me?” He folds his manacled arms and leans against the wall, taking note of how skittish she appears. “If you’re looking for information, I don’t have any.”

Kel’ori shakes her head and takes a step back. “No. No. We don’t want information. I mean, not from you, Grim. They said it shouldn’t take long. Then they’ll return you to the temple. In one piece, so don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Grimory furrows his brow at the mention of his name. “Who? Why?” He scowls, frustration welling inside of him.

Kel’ori purses her lips. “I think I’ll go get that wood now.” She sweeps from the cellar and out into the cooling night, where she stomps her foot at herself. “Keep it together. He’s probably more scared than you are, idiot.” She returns promptly, the wood floating behind her. She busies herself at the stove, keeping her back to him and her lips pursed tight.

Grimory watches her intently, taking more notes on her abilities and demeanor. “I’m not cold,” he says. “Don’t bother.”

Kel’ori closes the stove and brushes her hands down the front of her dress, though she hadn’t actually touched the wood. “I’ll come back, then. Eat. Please. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you—including starving.”

Grimory again looks from the mage to the food. He narrows his eyes, then kicks the mug over. “No.”

Kel’ori jumps at the sound and skitters back against the stove. “Please, Grim. You need to eat.” Her voice catches to betray her fright. She inches forward to reach for the mug to set it upright, hoping there is any left inside.

Just before she can pick up the mug, he skids his boot across the floor loudly and watches her jerk away in response. He lets a short silence pass. “Why are you so afraid of me? Who are you?”

Kel’ori opens her mouth and closes it again several times, her mind pressing her to tell him the truth.

_I like blondes_.

She gasps as tears come to her eyes. “You’re a monster,” she whispers, then runs from the cellar, slamming the door behind her.

Grimory eases back into the wall and sighs. “News to me.”

Baemalen jerks awake at the slamming outside. He inhales slowly and pinches at the bridge of his nose, his head pounding. He sits up and groans, rubbing his palms over his face.

Kel’ori goes into the house and sinks down in the brightly lit corner by the fire, her back to the cool stone. She covers her face and shivers, though she is not cold, and gasps in breaths, but doesn’t cry.

The man sits up at the commotion in the next room. He looks at the sleeping baby wrapped in many blankets near the covered fireplace, then sighs and stands, taking up the infant and going to the foyer. He frowns and sets a hand on Kel’ori’s shoulder. “You all right?”

“He won’t eat,” she says without moving.

Baemalen blinks. “Bel? Well he’s also asleep so I imagine he doesn’t want to.”

Kel’ori shakes her head. “Grim. He won’t eat. And he knows I’m afraid of him. I can’t do this. I can’t look him in the eyes as though everything is fine between us, even though he’s not the man I fear, yet. He looks so innocent. So happy. There’s no demon inside him yet, and still his eyes in the darkness…” Her breath catches on a hiccup as tears finally form. “How do I make him eat? I can’t let him starve! He’s not the man I know, and yet I want to hit him. Because he’s weaker. But I can’t, for the same reason. Is it wrong to wish to punish someone for something they haven’t done yet?” She gasps and covers her mouth. “I can’t keep all these secrets. I can’t. It’s too much.” She glimpses the sleeping baby and sorrow fills her. “I could tell him. I could stop it ever happening.” She buries her face into her knees and wraps her hands behind her head. “Oh gods, I’m a terrible mother!”

Baemalen blinks at her rambling, his eyebrows slowly furrowing. He pulls the baby away from his shoulder and looks into his sleeping face. He stammers, fumbling over the beginnings of many sentences before finally coming upon “ _this_ is Grim’s child?!” He pauses, putting the pieces together. “A-and he… You?! What?”

Kel’ori grows more frantic, her eyes wide. “You can’t say anything, Bae. You can’t tell him! For him…it hasn’t happened, yet.” She bites at her bottom lip as it quivers. She closes her eyes and turns her head. “It wasn’t his choice, either. And I still have trouble forgiving him, even though I tell him I have.” She turns back, her tear-filled eyes pleading with him. “You can’t go down there. You can’t tell him. Promise me.”

Baemalen visibly flounders in his as he fidgets. He looks at the floor, then back to her. “He’s my friend. My _best_ friend.”

The mage forces herself to calm down. She takes a few deep breaths, then looks into his eyes and purses her lips. “Not anymore, Bae. That’s why you have to stay away from him. He can’t know you’re here.” Her breath hiccups in her chest. “And if you tell him…as much as I sometimes wish it to never have happened… It would mean losing Bel.” She runs her fingertips across the smooth, soft cheeks of the infant. “I’m either a terrible friend to Grim or a terrible mother to my son… Which would you choose?”

He hesitates again, still wrapping his head around everything and his mind racing so quickly he barely hears her self-deprecation. “Y-you’re talking about…time travel. Right? And Grim—cellar Grim—is…my Grim? Yours? I-I don’t understand.”

Kel’ori takes a breath. “Fuck it. We’re from the future. Twenty-something years from now. The Grim in the cellar is the Grim you know—the one from this time. _Our_ Grim has taken his own place in the Black Temple. I don’t remember all the details. I wasn’t listening the first time, because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I only know what my brother told me before they left.”

Baemalen swallows and again looks at the floor. “We can’t just leave him down there,” he says quietly. “Illie will be heartbroken if something happens to him. Donnie, too.”

“I don’t know who those people are. But, if the plan works, they’ll never know Grim was gone. They’ll never know a version of him from the future was with them. Once he’s done in there, Ana will come get this Grim, and they’ll just…put him back. But they can’t do that if he won’t eat. If he doesn’t eat and he dies… It’ll change everything.” She frowns and rubs at her temples.

Baemalen tenses. “No, we can’t let him die. And if he can’t see me, then I can’t help.” He paces a bit again. “Illie was always really good at convincing him to do stuff with her sweetness. But he likes her.” He bites at his lip in thought. “He’s also just really hardheaded. If you give him enough time he may come around.”

“In my time he’s always with Ali. She can convince him to do pretty much anything just to make her smile. He’d also literally die for Diori if she asked him to. Not really options, from where I’m sitting.” As though she’s just remembered, she motions at the fireplace. “I made more stew. Go ahead and eat.”

Baemalen glances at the stew, his headache slowly coming back as his adrenaline fades. He hands over the infant. “Ali? The death knight girl?” He frowns at the implications. “Does something happen to Illie? Why else would he leave her?”

Kel’ori’s brow furrows. “Leave her? I… I honestly don’t know. I’m sorry. All I know is he’s kinda stuck on Ali, but they’re not, like, together, but also they had this thing like fifty years ago—my time, of course. And they had a kid. My little sister. Adopted, obviously.” She shrugs and leans her head back. “Maybe they just didn’t work out. I know some Illidari, once they were brought back, a lot of them didn’t…get along with society. Too much time spent alone. Which I shouldn’t be telling you because you might try to change things.”

Baemalen nods, his brow furrowing further as he thinks. “He has another child?” He shakes his head as though the act will rid him of his confusion, but a sadness seeps into his heart. “She must not have made it, then. Illie isn’t as big a coward as me, but she’s not as strong as him.” He sighs, then smiles as he feels tears stinging his eyes at the thought. “Sorry for freaking out. This is just…a lot of information at once.”

“I know. I’m sorry. The others can explain it better. It’s just hard knowing that all I’d have to do is go down there and tell _that_ Grim anything, and things would change. I could show him the little girl in Stormwind right now, and he’d probably change his whole life around to spend time with her, just like he did in the future.” She stares off into space. “I could go tell myself my future as well.”

“Really can’t see that guy being a father, to be honest. He’s so young. Right now, anyway.” Baemalen nods absently. “Do you happen to know what happens to me?” He gives a small chuckle.

Kel’ori shakes her head. “Never heard of you until now. Sorry.”

Baemalen shrugs, still struggling to calm himself some. His eyes flick to the doorway to the sleeping quarters. “Worth a shot.” He sighs and looks back at the stew. “Did you eat yet? I’m not having any until everyone’s had some. It smells great.”

Kel’ori pushes to her feet. “No one has eaten. I was going to after taking some to Grim. Eat. Please. You slept all day and only had booze. You’ve already nearly finished the bottle.” She studies his demeanor and frowns. _He looks so scared_ … “I’m going to hug you, okay?”

The Illidari gives a small chuckle, then quiets when she doesn’t laugh with him. He clears his throat. “A-all right. Can I ask why?”

“Why am I warning you? So, you don’t flinch like I’m going to hit you.” She steps to him and wraps her free arm under his, then pulls him close, her head on his shoulder. “Why am I hugging you? Because you seem scared. I want you to know that I’m a friend.” Her ear picks up the rapid pace of his heartbeat.

Baemalen laughs breathily through his panic. He brings his arms up to return the embrace. “I’m not scared,” he says, albeit unconvincingly. “And I consider you my friend…as well.”

Kel’ori smiles. “Want me to let go, yet?”

His heart jumps at her words—suddenly not by the aspect of her touching him, but at the thought of her letting go. _I’ve needed this_. He pulls her the smallest bit closer and shakes his head.

“Just tell me when,” she says softly.

After a minute or so, Baemalen pulls himself away from her. Something drips onto his chest and he blinks, bringing a hand up to wipe at a cheek. He flushes and turns away, still smiling. “S-sorry. How embarrassing.”

The mage twists her lips. “It doesn’t make me think any less of you. If you ever need to talk…” She uses her magic to serve him in the chipped bowl and sets it at the small table with a large, battered spoon. “Found some utensils in a pile of trash. Don’t worry, I cleaned them.” She motions for him to sit.

She sets herself in front of the stool and uses her magic to collect all her makeup. Sitting with her legs crisscrossed, she sets Bel'theas neatly in the center. As though forgetting she’s not alone, she begins humming as she brushes her hair and picks out eyeshadow colors.

Baemalen sits across from her and takes a bite of stew—but not before thoroughly blowing on it. He watches her, eyes sliding from her pretty face to the sleeping baby’s, then back. _It doesn’t make me think any less of you_. “I’m here, too.” He shakes his head when she looks at him. “If you need to talk, that is.”

Kel’ori smiles at him. The shadow pallets float up and open, angled so he can see. “Pick your favorite color.”

Baemalen tilts his head. “My favorite color wouldn’t suit you very well.” He points to a shade of green not unlike that if healthy grass. “Wouldn’t work with your pretty blue eyes and vibrant yellow hair.”

“First of all, never doubt a master. I can do anything with any color that isn’t brown. Because brown is hopeless. Second of all, shameless flattery won’t get you very far with most people.” She fluffs her hair as the pallets come back to her. She casts him a flirty smile. “But I’m not most people.”

She sets to work, using her hands instead of magic to hold the brushes and control the makeup. After her lids are done, she traces with a charcoal-colored liner from a little silver tin. She opens the mascara tin and coats the little bristle brush to carefully apply the pigment. Finally, she finishes with a pale rouge on her cheeks and her signature deep red lipstick.

“Still like the green?” She asks, batting her lids intensely so he can see the green expertly cut with a smoky purple that makes the green stand out all the brighter.

Baemalen, spoon still between his lips, swallows his remaining bite of dinner. He makes to speak, then remembers the spoon and pulls it out. He clears his throat, flustered. “You look beautiful,” he finally says after regaining his composure. He returns the sultry smile. “Though, I gotta say nude would suit you better.”

She smirks at him. “Huh. You wish.” She stares at herself a bit longer in the mirror, her chin on the backs of her fingers as she turns her head this way and that. “I haven’t felt this much like myself in months. Mmm, just what I needed. Thank you so much for the help.” She kisses her fingertips and blows it at him. She stands, then bends to him. “I have to go make sure that idiot doesn’t freeze to death, as well as starving. Do you mind?” Her eyes remain somewhat sultry, but her smile is genuine and sweet.

“I didn’t do anything?” His eyes instinctively flick to her cleavage as he leans away, then back to her face. His grin widens and he takes the baby. “Of course. Be nice to him. He’s a softie inside.”

“Oh, please. The mysterious Silvermoon locket that no one has ever seen inside?” She scoffs, smiling, and wraps her cloak over her shoulders. “I’ll be the nicest Kel’ori I know how to be. Don’t worry.” She winks and steps out into the cold.

The mage sweeps down the stairs and turns up the lanterns with her magic. She settles her sights on Grimory, this time unwavering behind her shield of makeup making her feel stronger. She strides to the furnace and opens it, moving to the side so he can see. She snaps her fingers and the logs inside ignite, then she slams it shut with a _clang!_ Still silent, Kel’ori lifts the untouched tray and the mug from the dirt. Before she leaves, she raises her hand and extinguishes every lantern on the wall, leaving the only source of light what little there is flickering through the narrow grating of the stove.

“Have a good night,” she says in a cheerful tone heavily saturated with sass. Then she leaves and goes back upstairs to smile at Baemalen holding the slowly waking Bel'theas. “I hope he likes how hospitable I can be,” she says without a hint of sarcasm.

Baemalen’s smile grows slightly concerned as he again relinquishes the baby. “I’m…sure he’ll be fine,” he says more to himself than anyone.

“He will be,” she says. “I would kill for running water.” The dishes dunk into a small basin of water. After a moment glaring at them, she sends them away in a puff. “We’re better than this.” With the wave of a hand a crate of dishes appears on the floor. “So lovely,” she muses, lifting a porcelain plate etched with precious metal from the packing hay. “It’s so important to put things away if you don’t want to lose them.” She finds a bowl and a rolled leather sleeve filled with silverware. “Perfect. I’m starving.”

Baemalen blinks down at the cutlery and plates. “Wh-…where…?”

Kel’ori beams. “I saw them in Shattrath. At one of the shops.” Her smile falters the smallest bit. “Do you not like them?”

A smile creeps across Baemalen’s face. He leans on the table, knuckles on a cheek. “Five finger discount, eh?”

“Think they’ll miss them?” She rinses one, Bel'theas cooing at the shimmering water, then serves herself some stew.

Bel'theas gives an impatient pout as he watches her.

“Oh, is it dinner time, my sweet?”

Baemalen chuckles. “A woman after my own heart. I like you more every day.” He stretches. “Maybe you can swipe me some bourbon? Be careful, though. Some powerful mages there can trace arcane signatures.”

Kel’ori shakes her head as she arranges the infant in the papoose. The item covers her as she opens her top to feed him. “Careful what you say. You could give a girl the wrong impression.” For a moment she frowns down at Bel'theas, then breathes a heavy breath. “I can get you some. Later maybe. Just promise to be careful. I’ve seen where too much can go. I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you.”

Baemalen tilts his head, curious. “Oh? Someone you know get in an alcohol-fueled accident?”

The mage shakes her head. “When my mother died, father was…unwell. He went so long without being sober. Taveth had just been born and father couldn’t even look at him. I took the younger children to live with my aunt and uncle. Ervaen and I took care of the Tavern so father didn’t lose it. We didn’t go home for many years, just took food to him and made sure he ate something. The rest of my siblings don’t know that’s why we left.” She swirls the spoon through the stew, her eyes on the vegetables moving within. “So just be careful, all right?”

Baemalen sobers. “Sorry to hear that. Your mother, too.” He idly digs a thumbnail into the wood. When he looks down, his hair slips from his shoulder to inadvertently hide his face. “It’s a good thing I don’t have anyone to disappoint.”

Kel’ori sets her spoon down and reaches across to push aside his curtain of hair. “I wouldn’t be disappointed. Just worried. And I might force you to eat, even if you don’t want to. Friends don’t let friends suffer alone.”

The man jerks, too caught up in his own thoughts to expect a hand so close to his face, then calms. He smiles and takes another bite. “Better?” he says, cheek still full.

The mage laughs and nods. “It’ll do.”

They finish their meal with much lighter-hearted conversation before the mage yawns and leans back.

“I think it’s time for me to retire for the night. Isn’t that right, little guy,” she says to the infant she’s burping at her shoulder.

Baemalen nods and grins. “You go ahead. If you need me to watch over him I can. I’ll be up busying myself anyway.”

Kel’ori nods as she heads for the other room. “You were asleep all day, anyway.”

“I feel called out,” the Illidari says with a smile. “Good night.”

She smiles back. “Good night.”


	18. Chapter 17

Grimory chuckles as he’s pulled back down the corridor. He lifts a finger to his lips and stops Illith’ra when she tugs. “I’m…not really feeling it tonight, yeah?”

Illith’ra blinks back at him. “Oh, your head. Right. Another time.” She smiles. “When you feel better.”

He nods. “I’ve had a long day. Just need some rest. I’m going to grab a drink, first. You go back to our room and I’ll be right there.”

She smiles and pulls him to her to kiss his cheek. “Don’t get lost.” She waves and saunters back toward their chamber hall.

The Illidari makes his way back toward the empty mess hall, keeping his head up and alert for Alisbeth. He curses when she’s not there, then climbs the stairs into the sparsely populated upper floors.

Asheeda freezes in the doorway off the side of the Den of Mortal Delights, her eyes wide on Grimory. She quickly moves her hands, and the bottle clasped within them, behind her back. “Uh. Hi. Uh… I’m just going back to my lab. Late work, heh heh.”

Grimory stops, equally alarmed. He loosens up some. “Oh, you’re that weird alchemist.” He pauses and narrows his eyes, giving her a once over. “Wait a minute…”

“It’s not what it— People call me weird? That’s…rude.” She visibly deflates. “I thought people just didn’t like my potions. But I’m _weird_?” She moves closer to get to the door behind him. “I’m just gonna…drown my sorrows with the new recruit.” She holds up a stolen bottle of whiskey. “Give me a head start before reporting the _weird_ girl. Please. I think this new recruit might like me. And she’s pretty.” She looks up at Grimory. “I bet you get all the pretty ones. Don’t even look at you funny when you try to kiss them… I may have already had a little to drink.” Asheeda sighs and makes to pass him.

Grimory watches her, turning with her as she sidles around him. He blinks, ears pricking. “Wait, which new recruit? Where? Take me.”

Asheeda narrows her eyes. “Just a recruit. What do you care? Don’t you and Illie have your hands full with each other? Pretty sure she doesn’t want to share you. And I’m also pretty sure what’s-her-face might let me kiss her. And I fully intend to. After I get her name and calm her down. So… No. Back off. If I was a dude, you’d let me have this one.” She makes for the door, turning only to shoot him a look.

Grimory grabs her by the wrist before she can get too far. “No. Don’t.” A sudden whirlwind of emotions strikes him, but he swallows it. He grins. “Tell you what. You take me to the new girl, and I don’t tell Sunfury where all the booze has been disappearing to, yeah?”

“Really not cool. It’s not me. Tonight it is, yes, but I figured no one would notice cause that redhead of yours is always taking it, anyway.” Realization hits her face. “I’m invisible, anyway, apparently. Do you even know my name? Does anybody? Cause I don’t know…anybody.” She pouts at the whiskey. “Swear to gods… Fine. She’s in my lab. Which I stay in late at night.” She stares pointedly at him. “Very late at night.” She guides him to a door across from the mezzanine. “You wouldn’t believe the things I see this late.” She pushes open the door and goes inside without waiting for him. “Will this do?” she asks the woman with her back to Grimory.

Alisbeth nods. “Thanks. Hey, I was thinking, anyone ever tell you you’d make a very handsome man?”

Grimory rolls his eyes through the woman’s ramblings. Once inside the laboratory, however, he drops the act and steps forward. “Ali!” he says in a sort of hushed yell. “You were meant to go back to the cave. What are you still doing here?”

Alisbeth shoots to her feet and Asheeda pouts.

“Of _course_ you already know her. But not me! Nobody knows Asheeda, do they? Nobody thanks me for the potions in the infirmary. Bet you don’t even think about where they come from, huh?”

Alisbeth backs up into the other woman, a frown set on her face. “I don’t know him,” she says softly.

Asheeda grips her around the shoulders. “Who needs men anyway, right?”

“Right,” Alisbeth says, somewhat unsteadily.

Asheeda makes a shooing motion at him.

Irritation sparks in Grimory’s eyes and he gives an incredulous scoff. He again ignores the white-haired woman. “Ali, this is serious. You could compromise everything! Did you even see if Ana made it back safely?”

Alisbeth shrinks further into Asheeda’s grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you stop yelling at me?”

The Illidari woman’s eyes flare. “You are out of line.”

Grimory stops, his hands falling to his sides. Frustrated, he gives a growl. “Fine. But if everything falls through and someone gets hurt—or worse—it’s gonna fall on you.” With a scowl he turns for the door.

Alisbeth picks up the nearest bottle—one with a purple liquid inside—and hurls it at the back of the demon hunter’s head.

“Not that one!” Asheeda shrieks, lurching after it.

A cloud of smoke envelopes the Illidari and when it dissipates, an olive-skinned woman stands before them, glaring over her shoulder and not bothering to cover her large, bare breasts. “Oh, so you _do_ know me,” she hisses.

Alisbeth picks herself up from the floor where the other woman had knocked her. She blinks at Grimory, then snerks into her fingertips.

Asheeda’s hands fly to her mouth as her eyes round. “It works,” she whispers. “It works!” She throws her hands in the air. “Crap. I didn’t write that one down.” She grabs a small vial and goes to Grimory. “Don’t move.” She painstakingly begins collecting every drop she sees still clinging to his skin.

Alisbeth points at her, the wide grin still on her face. “Doesn’t she remind you of someone?”

Grimory steps away from the fussing woman and scoffs. “Yeah,” he grunts, again turning for the door despite his state. “Ash.” He pauses in the doorway. “Just remember what I said, Ali,” he says before throwing his long blond hair over his shoulder and taking his leave.

Alisbeth’s smile falls. She takes a deep breath. “ _Well it’s all your fault, cause I couldn’t find you! I was lost!_ ” she screams at the top of her lungs.

Asheeda’s eyes go wide and she rips the door closed, a finger to her lips. “Are you insane? If the night guard comes in here and—” She reaches for the whiskey bottle, but Alisbeth stops her.

“What did you call me?” the death knight hisses.

“W-what? Nothing! You just can’t go shouting—”

Alisbeth pulls the bottle from the table and grips the neck in her fist. “I’m not crazy,” she whispers.

Asheeda’s scream rips through the hallway before abruptly cutting off.

Grimory sighs, runs a palm down his face, then returns back to the lab. He throws the doors open to see an unconscious Asheeda on the floor and the single tattered curtain blowing in the open window. With a growl of frustration, he bends and throws the woman over a shoulder, then heads for the infirmary. “She better be going back to the cave.”

~ * ~

Jorick slowly opens his eyes, the discomfort causing him to wake. He finds that he’s drenched in a chilled sweat and the throbbing in his arms and leg has intensified to where he’s certain sleep is impossible. He sucks in a breath as he sits up, then releases it all when the action is finished. “Great,” he grumbles to himself as he looks at the bandage around his knee, completely bled through. As if that weren’t enough, the fire providing them with warmth is slowly fading. He glances back at the still sleeping mage and sighs.

“How long is she usually out for? It’s been a while,” he calls to the front of the cave, keeping the worry from his voice.

“Three days,” Koltira replies. “You look like shit. You need to heal.”

Jorick gives an audible groan, clearly not happy with the answer. He pulls his shirt off and throws it near the fire to dry. “Thanks for the tip. We need a fire more than I need to heal. Bookworms need heat, too.” He gestures to Taveth with a thumb.

Koltira nods. “I’ll go figure out something for wood. If you get desperate, feel free to cuddle him. I’m sure he’d enjoy it.” He laughs and trudges into the night.

“Or maybe Ana,” he mutters spitefully when the death knight is out of earshot. He sighs and unwraps the gauze from his knee, then bites a knuckle as it peels away from the wound. He throws it into the fire to give it some fuel and to destroy the evidence. He turns for his bag, then realizes he’d put it under Anarchaia’s head for a pillow. A groan escapes him and he mouths _Why?_ to the ceiling.

Koltira returns some time later and drops chopped up fence posts by the fire. “Best I can do.” He furrows his brow at the wound.

Jorick gives the elf a weary grin. “Much obliged all the same. You wouldn’t have happened to have found any vodka out there, eh?” he says jokingly.

Koltira shakes his head. “Sadly, no.”

Jorick sighs, disappointed. “Worth a shot.” He lies back down and rests an arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t Alisbeth supposed to be back by now?”

Taveth grumbles and sits up, rubbing an eye. “What time is it?”

“It’s only been a few hours. Go back to sleep,” Koltira says from the doorway.

Taveth furrows his brow at the human, studying his injuries. With determination set on his face he sits up and stretches. “I can’t lay here and watch you die from stubbornness, but I also can’t force you to accept the help of a…warlock.” He says the last word forcefully, as though admitting what he is is painful to him. “I’ll help you. No—” he wiggles his fingers, “—involved.” He pushes to his feet and shoulders his bag. <<Tryxora, I need you.>>

A purple portal opens and the succubus steps out, her whip in hand and a very satisfied look on her face. <<That new guy is _really_ fun.>>

Taveth yawns. <<Good. Come with me.>> He steps over Koltira. “Don’t worry. _I_ will actually come back. I promise.”

“Where are you going?” Koltira demands.

“Temple. They have to have something not _offensive_ to heal with, right? I’ll be safe. I have a succubus with me.”

Tryxora smirks and grabs his arm. <<Is our cover a demon hunter initiate and a succubus went out for a midnight romp?>>

He doesn’t bother shaking her off or leaning away. <<Yeah, sure. Whatever you want it to be.>>

“One hour,” Koltira calls after the two. “And then I’m coming in and dragging all four of you back out by your damn hair.”

Taveth raises a tired thumb in the air but doesn’t turn around or say anything.

Jorick growls and tilts his head back to call out the mouth of the cave, too. “It’s not really a matter of offense, more a matter of _I don’t want to end up like the last Guardian we had!_ ” He scowls up at the ceiling. “Light forbid I say no to anything ever.”

Koltira purses his lips. “I don’t think using a healthstone once is going to corrupt your soul with fel. But to each his own. I just prefer not to deal with inhaling strange dust.”

Jorick shrugs. “I’m sure that’s the same mentality Medivh had, too. And his mother.” His brow knits at the pain but he chuckles. “And there are some powders you should try. Had a fair share back in the day.”

Koltira shrugs. “As long as there is an enemy to fight, I can heal.”

Jorick shakes his head and again chuckles quietly. “Not what I meant, but by all means, remain humorless.”

Koltira’s lower lids raise. “Then what did you mean?”

“Herbs. Spice. Drugs,” Jorick explains. “Popular amongst roving gangs of bandits. Don’t heal you but sure take the edge off. And no fel.”

~ * ~

At the gate, the guard narrows his eyes at Taveth and Tryxora. “Next time find an empty room or something. No one actually cares what you do with the succubi.”

“Right. Yeah.” Taveth nods as Tryxora giggles.

<<He’s just a screamer,>> she says.

<<Could you not say things like that?>>

Tryxora bursts out laughing and drags him up the steps. <<What are we looking for?>>

He shrugs. <<Infirmary?>>

Grimory looks up after setting down the unconscious alchemist. He straightens, again not bothering to cover himself. “Taveth,” he says calmly, though is mildly surprised. “Did Ali make it back to the cave like I told her?” He scoffs. “Obviously not if you’re here.”

Taveth jumps and blinks blearily at the female demon hunter. “I need healing supplies. I don’t know where Ali is. _You_ are the one in here with her, _and_ the only one who can ever get her to do anything. If anyone should know where she is, I’d think it’d be you.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “That was rude. I’m so sorry. I’m very tired. Jorick is bleeding out and has severe burns, but refuses my help, so I came in hopes of something less offensive to him than a stone. Ana is unconscious, again, because we never got the signal for me to pull her through the nether. Oh, and some renegade blood knight with a chip on her shoulder came to kill us all. Yaaay.” He raises a fist as a sarcastic celebration, his eyes remaining tired. “I have no idea how I’m getting past the guards again. So. Healing supplies?”

Grimory scowls. “I’m not her _babysitter_ ,” he hisses, disregarding the apology. He shakes his head and mutters _stupid human_ beneath his breath. He glances at the door to ensure the nurse is not on her way back just yet, then grabs a couple potions, gauze, and ointments from the shelf above the cots. He shoves them into a pillowcase and hands them over. “There’s a west exit you can take. The stairs are broken so it’s not guarded. You’ll have to jump a few feet to get to the ground.”

Taveth shoves the pillowcase into his satchel. “I guess you’re right. She’s a perfectly capable adult. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing and what’s important.” He shoves out the door. “No way is she off doing something foolish that could get her killed, or someone else killed.” He continues his half-awake blithering as he shuffles down the hall. “She’ll be back. No need to get riled up. It’s fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.”

Grimory leans against the doorframe and watches him go as a puff of grey smoke billows around him, turning him back into himself. “Be safe, Tav.”

Taveth makes it back to the cave with the succubus practically holding him up. He pulls out the pillowcase, sets it beside Jorick, then lays back down.

<<May I return to Irtho’zyn?>> Tryxora asks, her eyes sparkling.

The high elf just waves her off and she disappears in a purple portal.

Koltira blinks at the man. “That was actually very fast.”

Jorick smiles and pulls the bag toward him as though his life depends on it. “It was.” He pulls out the ointment and a wave of relief washes over him. “I really owe you one, kid.” He grits his teeth as he puts the ointment over the slice and quickly wraps the gauze over it. He pulls out the bottles filled with queer colored liquids and narrows an eye before putting them back.

“Not going to use a potion?” Koltira asks. “I think you’re kind of in need of one.”

“It’s unlabeled,” he mutters. “Last time I drank from an unlabeled bottle, I woke up in a field with a crow trying to pick out my eyes.”

~ * ~

Asheeda enters her lab and goes to the mirror. She hisses as she peels away the bandage over her left eye. A throat clears behind her and she jumps, then backs into the counter.

“Please don’t scream,” Alisbeth says. She removes her veil so the other woman can see her frowning. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You just shouldn’t have said those things about me.”

“I-I didn’t mean it that way.” She scoots away as Alisbeth steps forward and holds out a bottle.

“I stole this for you.”

“Why?”

The death knight frowns. “Nobody else wants to be my friend.”

“And you think I do? After you tried to smash my skull in?”

Tears drip from Alisbeth’s cheeks. “Why doesn’t anyone want to be my friend? Why doesn’t anybody want to love me?”

Asheeda relaxes some as she listens to the girl crying softly into her palms. “I don’t know about the love thing, but…how about we drink that and see where we can get on the friends thing?”


	19. Chapter 18

A day or so later, the human and the elf sit near the cave wall, hugging themselves while the death knight remains vigilant at the cave mouth. The fire had died hours before and the living were doing their best to stay warm in the cooling evening air.

A sharp but quiet gasp echoes against the walls. Anarchaia groans and covers her face with her hands as her brain struggles to restart. “What time is it?” she murmurs from behind her palms.

Koltira rushes across the cave and kneels beside the mage. “It’s…late. You’ve been out for a few days.”

“Welcome back to the land of the freezing,” Taveth says. “Koltira won’t let us move camp to a lava pit and Jorick doesn’t want to play cuddle-buddy.” He grins at her from behind his huddled knees. “Any chance you want to?”

She slowly sits up and chuckles. “I may look warm, but I don’t think I’d help much. Unless it’s a psychosomatic effect you’re after.” She lifts a hand and the firepit springs back to life.

Jorick scoots closer to the pit and holds out his freezing hands. “Oh, thank the Light.” He sighs happily. “Thank you, Ana.”

She frowns at his bloodied bandages. “What happened? I remember the woman. I…remember…” She perks. “Ali! Did Ali ever get back?”

Taveth holds his numb fingers up to the fire and whimpers as it stings heat into them. “No Ali. Grim is… He was very short with me. I don’t think he’ll be very helpful if I go back in.”

“Jorick won’t drink the potions Grim sent back. He thinks crows will eat out his eyes. I keep telling him there aren’t crows here, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Koltira shrugs.

“Grim wouldn’t poison you,” Taveth assures for what feels like the hundredth time.

“ _They’re not labeled!_ ” Jorick hisses, shooting Koltira a look. “For all I know those potions are made with demon blood!”

Anarchaia giggles into her fingertips. “Don’t remember you being this paranoid over mysterious liquids.” She gets to her feet, then frowns at a piece of the man’s armor on the floor. “Oh gods, my hair. I really need a shower.”

“Same,” the human mutters, scratching at his growing beard. “Think the Illidari will let us use theirs?”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “I can help, though.” She smirks at the two near the fire as she conjures a globe of water in a hand. “But I’d have to watch.”

Jorick shrugs. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She flushes at his audacity. “More directed at Taveth.”

Taveth blushes a dark red. “G-good thing there’s nothing to look at? Heh.” He frowns and looks away, his blush creeping up his ears.

Koltira narrows his eyes, unamused. “I’ll go back to keeping watch.” He moves from the mage and stands in the doorway, his back to the three by the fire.

“Offer extends to you, too, _obviously_ ,” Anarchaia calls after Koltira. She rolls her eyes and makes her way deeper into the cave where the firelight doesn’t reach.

Jorick chuckles at the man beside him. “Not much experience with women, I take it?”

Taveth gives an awkward chuckle as Koltira barks a laugh from the front of the cave.

“N-no,” the high elf says. “Not really. Heh.” He tucks his nose into his armpit and cringes. “Ana, does that extend to my clothes? A-and do you promise not to look?”

Koltira sighs. “Let them go first,” he calls to Ana. “I can wait a little while.”

“Okay,” she calls, scrubbing her hair with a conjured bar of soap from the outpost in the dim light of a floating ember. “And yes, it does!”

Jorick sighs and stands. “Fine. Since you’re not jumping to your feet.” He unlaces his tunic and makes his way into the small alcove in the back, ignoring the pain in his healing leg.

Anarchaia jumps and squeaks in surprise when his figure strides into the illumination. “I-I’m not finished,” she says, then relaxes and shrugs. “ _Nothing you haven’t seen before_ , right?” She chuckles nervously and turns away anyway to dry off.

He lowers his hand that he’d been shielding his view with, then lets his eyes wander when she turns around. “Yeah,” he says with a small smile. He removes his shirt and tosses it aside. “You look just like you did. Must be nice.” He removes the rest of his clothes as she dresses again; then he removes the bandages on his arms.

She frowns and pulls him further into the light as his clothing lifts off the ground and into a sudsy orb of water. “What happened? Jorick, this looks infected.” She flushes, then steps away a bit.

“Imps like their meat well done. So maybe keep the water on the cooler side?”

She nods, unable to keep her eyes from traveling as well, noting all the gnarly scars and his mangled knee. She sets herself on a large boulder and brings the water to his nude form instead, then hands him the soap. Silence passes between them as she watches him scrub himself. Every now and again he catches her eye and she looks away.

Once finished he cries out as his body is enveloped in a quick flash of fire. He blinks when he realizes that he’s unharmed and perfectly dry, but cries out again when he feels his head and the puffy mass atop itad. “M-my hair!”

She giggles. “Sorry.”

He jerks when a small splash of water hits him in the face. Without another word, he grumbles and heads back to the fire to drop beside his bag and pull out more gauze for his arms and leg.

Koltira grinds his teeth until his jaw aches. Eventually he steps out of the cave to get away from the jealous feelings clawing inside him like a caged animal ready to lash out at the human.

Taveth stands and fidgets as he shuffles to the back of the cave. “Do you really have to look? Can you not?” He hesitates in unbuttoning his vest. “I mean, what’s a little smell, heh? I could just…wait. Or something.” He glances back to the main area of the cave and cringes.

Anarchaia rests on a hip and folds her arms. She lifts a brow. “Don’t make me undress you myself.”

Taveth whimpers and begins undressing. He folds his arms and angles himself away from the mage, still looking over his shoulder. “They can’t see me, right?”

Anarchaia shakes her head, smirking. “Nope. Light’s too dim and we’re safe in this alcove.” She holds out her hand for his clothes.

The high elf relinquishes his clothing. “Let’s go fast, then. Don’t look at me.” He uses the provided soap to first wash his hair as the mage provides him with warmed water. He continues, his neck red and hot from embarrassment over her presence.

The articles wash themselves as the elf does the same. Anarchaia’s smirk quickly fades when the man turns to just the right angle. Her fingertips reflexively cover her mouth as her eyes widen. _Oh my gods_ … She clears her throat, her face also red when she forces herself to look away. “I-I won’t…”

“Don’t burn me,” he says when he’s finished. Once dried, he yanks his clothes on as fast as he can. Taveth clears his throat. “Thank you. For the help, and for not looking. Don’t need another person telling me I’m too skinny.” He pauses. “I need to stop talking. Heh. Thank you.”

“No problem!” she responds, almost too quickly. Visibly flustered, she pushes him back toward the front. “G-get Koltira for me, okay? Heh.”

“O-okay.” Taveth stumbles. “Didn’t realize you were so eager to get him naked. Just remember, this _is_ a shared cave.” He goes outside to find Koltira perched in a small outcropping over the cave. “Your turn.”

“Oh, is she done giggling with her ex?”

“That’s not fair.”

Koltira sighs and jumps down. “Maybe.” He goes to the back of the cave and stands over the mage. He says nothing, just clenches jaw.

Anarchaia shrinks from his aura alone. She frowns, suddenly intimidated. “T-take your clothes off?” is all she can mutter at that moment.

He doesn’t move. “Promise I have nothing to worry about.”

She sobers and fidgets with her fingers, unable to look away. “I-I feel like I’ve already done that. But if you want me to again…”

He lets out a long breath. “I trust you.” He removes his armor and proceeds to do as the others had.

She watches as he runs the soap over his glowing tattoos and long, snowy hair. She sinks to sit on her boulder again and sighs. “I love you,” she says quietly, not wanting her voice to carry.

Koltira stops and turns his head to look at the woman. He steps to her, still dripping, and pulls her up into a passionate kiss. “I love you, too,” he whispers against her lips.

She hums and smiles, running fingertips up his chest. Pulling away and biting her lip, she for a moment actually considers not taking Taveth’s advice. Instead she sighs and kisses him again, then gently pushes him back toward the water. “I love you more,” she responds playfully.

Jorick grits his molars on one side as he continues to fix his hair. _Used to say that to me_. “How long is blondie supposed to be up there? Place can’t be that big. Especially to someone who lives there,” he says to Taveth. “And what’s so sad about that empty book you keep opening?”

Taveth looks at the book in his hands. “Grim will take as long as he needs to. And…” He opens the book to the last message he’d written and holds it out to show the mercenary.

_I have been sent decades into the past by accident. Please respond. If I do not return… My sister, Tyndra, will know who to inform._

Below it a more recent message has been scrawled.

_Please. I need to know that you’re reading this._

“My books, save my personal journal, have twins in Stormwind…in our time. I was hoping the connection spanned time-travel, but…”

Koltira gazes ruefully at the two men by the fire. He presses back into her lips and moans lightly.

“This cave has amazing acoustics,” Taveth says loudly enough for it to echo. “Wouldn’t you agree, Jorick?”

The death knight pulls back and grits his teeth. “I can kiss the woman I love, can’t I?” he calls back to them.

The girl gives a nervous titter, too embarrassed to form a response.

“As long as it stays at that,” Jorick grumbles just loud enough for them to hear. He glances back at Taveth and regards the book again. “Someone you love?” He smirks.

Taveth shakes his head. “Not the kind of love you’re thinking. I’m…loyal to him. Devoted.”

Jorick tilts his head as he ties off the gauze on his arm. “Isn’t that what love is, really?” he replies, seemingly unfazed by the pronouns used.

Anarchaia bites her lip when the men seem to move on. “Next time we’re alone,” she whispers, pulling on his hair to bring him into one last kiss. “Now clean up before you get dirty again.”

Koltira groans at the pulling, his eyes closed and his body eager. He clenches his jaw and looks at her. “That was cruel, and you know it,” he whispers. As payback, he presses a palm where he knows he’ll get a response from her.

She sucks in a breath and places her hand over his as though to stop him, but doesn’t. <<They’ll hear us,>> she urges in Gutterspeak, heart racing.

“Not if we’re very,” he kisses the side of her neck, “ _very,_ ” he kisses just under her ear, “quiet,” he finally whispers right against her ear. His palm presses harder beneath her hand.

She places her free palm over her mouth when a quiet gasp escapes. “I-I don’t know if I can be.” She again runs her fingertips over his chest and abdominals and smirks as she trails them down. “And I don’t think you can be, either.”

Taveth frowns. “It’s still not like that. I knew him as a child. He sat many hours with me in the library. He wanted to learn priestly things, and I helped him until he found a better mentor. Though I am not in love with him, I suppose I’d lay down my life for him, as many already have.”

Jorick lifts his eyebrows as he quickly places the pieces together. “Anduin. Impressive. Lucky you.”

“You’ve obviously never played the quiet game,” Koltira says on a chuckle. “Just…don’t pull my hair or that’s that.” He looks down at her fingers on his torso. “I don’t want to admit you’re right, though.”

An impish gleam sparkles in her eye and she bites her lip again. “Oh? I don’t understand. Like this?” She gives one of his long, wet tresses another tug.

Jorick’s brow furrows again at the quiet noises he catches just above the crackling of the fire and he rolls his eyes. “Hope he pays you well.”

Taveth blushes as his secret is discovered. “My needs are more than met, yes. Every Alliance outpost, even in this timeline, recognizes and accepts the king’s seal as currency.”

Jorick hums in realization. “So that’s how you got so much from the outpost. Handy. Why keep it a secret, though?”

“Imagine the leverage one would have over the king, should they discover his friend and favored scribe is out in the wilderness taking notes. My life is in danger just by being out of the library. Making my relationship to his highness known would just put a target on my head.” He sighs, then widens his eyes as a desperate groan from Koltira echos to them. “Okay, now you’re just being _rude!_ ”

Jorick sighs and stands, unable to contain his unrighteous jealousy. “Getting some air,” he grumbles and makes his way outside.

Anarchaia quickly covers the death knight’s mouth. “We aren’t actually doing anything!” she calls, face a dark pink.

“Yet,” Koltira adds quietly on a husky breath.

She grins against his lips and whispers “yet.”

~ * ~

For the third night in a row, Kel’ori goes down into the basement with a tray of food. She stands over the stagnating pile and holds out the cup of water. She tilts it and begins pouring it into the dirt, a smile on her face. “I’m not supposed to let you starve.” She bats her purple-shadowed eyelids. “But I can pour your meals out again and again while you watch until eventually you say the magic word and I let you eat.” She empties the cup of water and lifts the bowl of creamy potato soup. “I spend so long cooking these meals and you’re just going to kick them back at me again and again, aren’t you?” She dumps the soup onto the rotting pile. When she’s done, she raises her eyebrows. “Well, I hope you enjoy!”

She snaps her fingers and the stove for heat lights up, then the lamps go dark, leaving Grimory in darkness with nothing but the stench of the meals she’s been dumping on the floor. Upstairs she sets the tray down on her newly stolen kitchen table and grins down at Baemalen, sharing cooled sips of soup with Bel'theas.

“How are my boys doing up here?”

Baemalen smiles as the baby makes small, happy noises and reaches for the spoon. “Fine. How is he?”

“He’s doing great! Ate every bite. I guess you’re not the only one who likes my cooking.” She gives the infant a big grin.

Bel'theas lifts his upper lip in a fangy sneer; it softens into a grin.

Kel’ori gasps. “He smiled. Oh, my gods, he smiled at me!” She swoops in to kiss his messy cheeks and, in her excitement, kisses Baemalen’s cheek, too. She immediately jumps back and covers her mouth. “Oh! Oh, gods. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

Baemalen’s face turns a brighter shade of red than his hair. He clears his throat, laughs, and wipes the lipstick from his cheek. “It’s all right,” he chuckles. “Heat of the moment.”

The mage holds up a handkerchief. “At least that shade doesn’t look so bad on you.” She sits down to her own bowl of soup. “Are you staying up late again?”

Baemalen shrugs as he continues to feed the babbling baby. “Maybe. Why? Eager to get me in bed?” He smirks.

Kel’ori giggles across the table. “Oh, please. You really think you’re that charming? No. I was just making conversation. If you do stay up again, just remember that Grim can’t see you. It’ll change future-Grim. Or something. So…” She points her spoon at him. “Be good. And stuff.” She smiles as Bel'theas leans forward, mouth open, to steal Baemalen’s next spoonful of soup.

Baemalen sucks in a hiss at the slight. “Ouch. My pride. And here I thought we were getting along so well.” He blinks when he brings the spoon to his mouth, but there’s nothing on it. He chuckles and pokes the baby in the nose. “I think we’re a bad influence on you.”

~ * ~

The door to the cellar opens, letting the cold night air trickle in with the pale moonlight cutting into the darkness. Heavy boots take the steps one at a time, calculating and cautious, then stop at the bottom. A lantern lifts and the wick is let out to provide more light. It reflects from the helm in small specs from the places where battle had pried open the finish to reveal the shining metal beneath. The blood knight steps forward, eyeing the man on the floor, his long blond hair undone and dirty and his face bent as he ignored whomever has come to join him in the darkness. She sets the flat of the spearhead under his chin and lifts it to look upon his face. After a moment, she kneels to his level.

“Do you have a name?” she asks.

Hungry and weak, yet determined, the Illidari sets his jaw as he looks into her helmet. “Do you?” he asks, the strength in his voice betraying his wear.

She releases a small _hmph_ of a laugh behind her mask. She stands and kicks at his chains. “Tough act for one in shackles.” She turns from him, slowly sauntering to the door. “I’ve a mission, here. I’ll be carrying it out next time that busty whore brings you dinner. After that I’m never returning to this awful desert or this putrid hole you inhabit.” She stops, her boots shining red and black, all the metal glinting in the dim light of the atmosphere. “Would you like to earn your freedom tonight, or rot in your chains?” She turns her head, concentrating her eyebrowless eye on him.

Grimory gives her a once over, seemingly weighing his options. He straightens, only just realizing how much his muscles ache to move again. “I’d obviously prefer to not be locked up in here.” He shrugs a shoulder. “But I won’t hold out for you. Do what you will, yeah?”

“Are you really all brawn and no brains?” She slowly turns and points her spear at him again. “I’m giving you a choice. All you have to do—” She breaks a skeleton key loose from a keyring at her waist, “—is distract the bitch for a few minutes.” The blood knight holds the key out over Grimory. “And give me a name to call you.”

His emerald eyes slowly slide from the key to her helmet and the shadows inside. “Grimory,” he says, not only giving his name but a signal of his compliance. “Silversong. And what do I call my gracious savior?”

She remains motionless for a long time, like a statue, studying him. She crouches down to look into his eyes. “My dragonhawk is on the roof. Be on him when I leave, or we leave without you. Stay out of my way, otherwise.” She gently slips the key into his waistband, then pats it, letting her palm rest there a moment longer. She stands, dims the lantern, and replaces it on the wall. She turns as she’s about to leave. “And don’t try to leave without me, Silversong. Stormbreaker won’t have it.” With that she leaves, closing him back into the darkness of the cellar.

~ * ~

Kel’ori purses her lips at Baemalen as he portions out Grimory’s meal. “He’s not going to eat it, anyway.” She sighs down at the infant, falling asleep at her bosom. “Let me put him to bed.” She takes Bel'theas to his newly stolen crib in the barracks, then returns to the living area, buttoning her bodice.

Baemalen perks, then furrows his brow in clear apprehension. “He still hasn’t been eating?”

“Whether it’s on the floor or nicely in front of him, no. He won’t eat. And if he breaks another of my fine china…” She balls a threatening fist, then takes up the tray. “After you.”

The Illidari forces another smile onto his face despite his distress and nods. He follows her out to the cellar and opens the door for her but does not follow.

Grimory looks up as he hears the delicate footsteps on the wooden stairs as he has every day. “Going to dump it on the floor again?”

She purses her lips tightly. “Will it end up on the floor _anyway?_ ”

Grimory looks away as though struggling with his pride. “…no.”

She sets the tray down, her brow furrowed. “Why are you being agreeable?” She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Don’t break my dishes.” She stands and backs toward the doorway, her sights fixed on him.

He still avoids eye contact, shifting uncomfortably. “These shackles are digging into my wrists. Would you mind…loosening them? Just a little?” He finally looks up at her. “Please?”

“So you can get loose? I think not. Enjoy your food.” She turns away and heads up the stairs.

“N-no, wait!” He frowns when she stops but does not turn to look at him. “I won’t run. I won’t even try to escape. You’re a mage, yeah? Just polymorph me if I do something you don’t like. Yes?”

Kel’ori glares over her shoulder. “Eat your food.” She goes up the stairs and shuts the door, pursing her lips at Baemalen.

Grimory grits his teeth and growls before pulling the key from his waistband just as the doors close.

“He said more words to me tonight than the day he got here.” She leads Baemalen around the side of the house to find the front door wide open.

“Hush little baby, don’t you quake…” The gentle voice emanates from the front door.

Kel’ori stops in her tracks and grabs Baemalen’s hand as they get to the doorway. The blood knight sits with her back to them, her spear angled across her lap.

“I’m gonna buy you a netherdrake.” Her voice is gentle, yet rough. She doesn’t move as the two slowly entered the house. “And if that netherdrake won’t fly…”

They circle around the woman. Kel’ori’s hands fly to cover her mouth as she blocks a scream. Cradled in the blood knight’s arms is the still-sleeping Bel'theas, the spearhead so close to his cheek any sudden move would injure him.

She looks up at them and sets her index finger to her mask. “…Then that netherdrake will die.”

“No,” Kel’ori cries quietly.

“Ah,” the blood knight sighs, “the busty whore and her concubine. You’ve got something I’m looking for.” She inches the blade closer to the baby’s cheek as Kel’ori cries helplessly. “Where is the dragon?”

Baemalen takes an instinctive step to protect the mage. He opens his mouth, then pauses. “Concubine?” he whispers to himself, then shakes his head. “Look, miss—may I call you miss?—we don’t know where he is. He comes and goes as he pleases. I-if we did, we’d gladly send you his direction.” He takes another shaky step forward, a nervous grin on his face as to appear likable. “So please. Relinquish the baby?”

The blood knight chuckles darkly. “I think you’re lying.” The spear shifts closer to graze the infant’s cheek.

Kel’ori squeaks and reaches out but doesn’t move closer. “He’s telling the truth. Please let him go.”

She thinks for a long time, then stands and extends the spear to point at Baemalen’s sternum. “No. I have a better idea. Tell that scaly bastard that if he wants his abomination back, he can come find me.” She ignores Kel’ori. The blood knight whistles as she backs from the house, and her dragonhawk lands out front. “Oh, look who made it. Here.” She hands Bel'theas to the demon hunter and jumps into the saddle in front of Grimory. “Don’t drop it.” In an instant the creature takes flight.

Grimory sneers some at the child. “What is it?” He jerks as the animal rears to take off, wrapping his free arm around her waist.

“It’s the dragon’s spawn, obviously. Half breed, by the looks of it. He’ll come soon enough to take it off our hands. Dragons are protective of their offspring.” The blood knight laughs at her own devious plan and angles north.

Kel’ori runs outside and screams at the retreating dragonhawk, then falls to her knees.

Baemalen watches them go, only catching a brief glimpse of his friend before they disappear into the sky. He gives a small cry of frustration and scrunches his fingers against his head. “Wh-what are we gonna do?!” he says, panicked. “Ven!” He runs inside. “Ven!” He scoffs in disbelief when he receives no answer. Turning, he catches his face in the mirror on the wall—twisted with rage—and he pauses. His features again soften and he looks at Kel’ori. “What do we do?” he says again somberly.

Kel’ori scrambles into the house. Where a quill and paper fly over to meet her. She scribbles a quick letter and it rolls up and puffs away. She sits down, shaking, and holds her head in her hands.

Baemalen sighs and kneels beside her to cautiously wrap his arms around her shoulders and press her tears into himself. “It’s all right. We’ll get him back.”

Kel’ori grips the Illidari. “P-promise?”

He tightens his hold and nods against the top of her head. “I promise.”


	20. Chapter 19

The rolled paper appears beside Anarchaia and smacks the woman on the side of the head before falling to the ground.

She jerks and squeaks in surprise, then furrows her brow down at the scroll. She unfurls it, immediately recognizes the handwriting, then gasps and stands when she finishes. “She took the baby! And Grim!”

Jorick blinks up at her. “Who?”

“A blood knight woman!” She tenses, then flails in panic. “We have to go help.” She groans. “But I can’t make a portal if I can barely teleport myself.” She paces, rambling ideas.

The mercenary blinks at her again. “So we fly.”

She stops and opens her mouth, then closes it again and shakes her head apprehensively.

Taveth blinks at the chaos. “Okay, but…where did she take them?”

“Ask Grim,” Koltira says from the doorway.

“How are we supposed to—” Taveth’s eyes bug wide and he looks over at Anarchaia. “You don’t think…”

Anarchaia shakes her head, for once not following. “Why ask Grim? What don’t I think? _What am I missing?_ ”

Taveth whimpers in annoyance. “Because _maybe he’ll remember?_ ”

“That doesn’t help our situation of getting back to the house, and _then_ getting to wherever they went,” Koltira says. “But I agree that flying might be our only choice.”

“I’ll send Tryxora to ask Grimory if—”

<<I was listening,>> the demoness says from the darkness deeper in the tunnel.

Taveth jumps. “What are you doing down there?”

<< _Not protecting the infant,_ apparently.>> She stomps forward and growls at him. <<I knew that weak little elf couldn’t protect him!>>

“Okay, okay! Can you just go get Grim?”

She hisses one last time, then walks through a purple portal.

Anarchaia fidgets more. “Y-you guys can fly. I’ll just meet you there.”

Jorick purses his lips in bemusement. “So you can pass out for three days again?”

She frowns. “It was three days?”

Koltira goes into the cave and sits by the mage. “You can close your eyes. We won’t judge you for it.”

She groans apprehensively in response. “It’s not the heights I’m afraid of.”

“A dragonhawk ain’t the same as a horse, Ana,” Jorick says as he stands. “What’s it gonna kick you with?”

She purses her lips. “They bite.”

“Someone needs to stay here, in case Ali comes back,” Taveth says, not paying attention to the other discussion. “I think I’d be an adequate choice. Given my…friends?”

Jorick shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the mage, then turns to Taveth. “I can stay. They may need your _friends_.”

Taveth frowns. “You’re still injured. I won’t leave you here alone.”

Jorick gives Taveth a small smile. “You’re a good kid.”

Taveth blushes and shrugs. “Not really. Just doing what anyone would.”

“I won’t let it bite you,” Koltira insists.

Anarchaia sighs but remains tense at the thought. “Okay,” she finally says.

~~

Grimory jumps as his elbow is grabbed. He narrows his eyes down at the whip binding his arm and scowls at the succubus. “Ana? What are you doing? Are you enjoying being up there a little too much?”

<<Try again, big boy. You and the baby were stolen. Our master requests your memories.>> She pulls at the whip and pushes herself against him. <<Do you plan on resisting?>> Her grin is one of almost daring.

Grimory gives her an annoyed stare but does not resist. <<No. What does he need? Why can’t I just tell you and you tell him?>>

Tryxora purses her lips. <<Do you remember a blood knight?>>

Grimory thinks on it, then nods. <<There were a few here a few days ago. Why?>>

Tryxora’s brow furrows. <<Did you not hear me? A blood knight kidnapped _you_. And the baby.>> She growls and throws her hands up. <<No memory at all. You’re useless.>> She doesn’t wait. But returns to Taveth. <<He’s useless. And doesn’t care. Let’s go save Bel'theas.>>

“We’re not going,” he says.

<<We _what?_ >>

Anarchaia stands. “Let’s find ourselves a flight path, then,” she grumbles begrudgingly.

Jorick gives a small, two fingered salute. “Be safe.” He fishes the map from his bag and relinquishes it to the mage. “Send word, okay?”

She nods. “Are you sure you want to stay behind?”

He nods and scratches at the back of his neck. “Yeah… I’d just be a burden. No magic powers, just a bum leg and dead weight.” He smiles.

Taveth stands to hug the mage and give Koltira a handshake. “Thank you for helping my family. I know they’re in good hands.” He ignores the angry mumbling of the demoness.

The mage and death knight duo travel back west until they come across a small draenic village mostly in ruin. The people there go about their work, regarding the two with dubious interest as they walk toward the post at the top of the steps of the altar. A draenei man sits with a wyvern on one side and a griffin on the other.

Anarchaia gasps and grabs at Koltira’s arm. “We didn’t bring any money,” she hisses quietly.

Koltira lowers his brow at her. “Why do I feel like you’re lying?”

She purses her lips and straightens, then frowns and gives the waiting draenei man the remaining silver in her satchel. The griffin squawks expectantly and the mage cries out, putting Koltira’s much larger frame between herself and it. “I-I change my mind! The baby can die!” she whimpers.

Koltira’s eyelids lower. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then turns and wraps his arms around the mage. The death knight lifts her onto the wyvern, then gets on behind her. It immediately takes off for Falcon Watch; he keeps his arms wrapped around her. “I won’t let you fall, and it can’t face you to bite you. Besides, they’re trained.”

She presses herself tightly against him and screams, holding onto his arms. “The horse that kicked me was trained, too!”

“Ana, it can’t kick you, either. Calm down.” He deals with her screaming all the way until they land in Falcon’s watch and she leaps from the creature’s back. He rolls his eyes and takes her by the elbow. “Okay, let’s try to make good time. Might get there by morning.”

They travel swiftly and when they arrive at the house, they find a sleep-deprived Kel’ori with dark circles around the smeared makeup of her eyes. She’s propped in the large chair in front of the fire, Baemalen dozed at her feet. Her head snaps to them and she frowns.

“Do you have him? Did you find him? She took my baby.” The elf breaks down into more sobbing, though hardly any tears come to her eyes as though she’s out of them.

Koltira blinks and looks around. “I… Where did you get all this stuff?”

“ _Koltira_ ,” Anarchaia hisses, then takes Kel’ori gently by the shoulders and lowers her voice to a comforting tone. “No. We need some information before we go. What happened? Did you see which direction she came or left from?”

Kel’ori shakes her head. “Um. I, uh, I don’t know.” She gently shakes the Illidari’s shoulder. “Bae? Bae! Where did they go? Did you see where they went?”

Koltira purses his lips. “She was probably on that stupid dragonhawk. She could have gone _anywhere._ ”

Baemalen jerks awake. “Sorry!” He calms after a moment. “O-oh. Uhm,” he clenches his eyes shut and shakes his head as he thinks quickly. “North. She went—”

“To Tempest Keep.” Grimory regards Anarchaia and Koltira with a nod as he strides in.

“And how do you know that?” Anarchaia says, hiding her surprise.

He shakes his head. “I suddenly have these memories of being taken.”

She purses her lips anxiously. “We may be messing with the timeline too much.”

Kel’ori stands. “Then we go to Tempest Keep.”

“Do you really think you should go?” Koltira asks.

She shoots him a deathly glare. “If you even try to stop me…”

Baemalen nods as he gets to his feet. “I’ll go as well.”

Anarchaia groans quietly at the thought of more flying but nods all the same. “Back to Falcon Watch, then…”

Grimory nods and turns back outside. “Right. I’ll meet you there.” He spreads his wings and is gone.

“Let’s hurry,” the elf mage says, grabbing a bag she’d prepared during the night. “Do you know the fastest way there?”

Koltira looks at Anarchaia, then shakes his head. “I honestly don’t think Anarchaia has fully recovered. We’ll have to—”

“Okay, let’s go.” She shoves past him out the door.

“Other way,” Koltira grumbles when she heads east.

Kel’ori stomps past the door again, this time pointed west.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Anarchaia mumbles as she follows the other three. “I’m fine. Trauma is fine.”

The four make it to Falcon Watch in record time thanks to Kel’ori’s urging. With help from Baemalen’s pilfered money, they take two dragonhawks and set out north.

Koltira holds tight to the mage. “You still okay on energy?”

Anarchaia nods but continues to keep her eyes shut. “Yeah. I guess the distance was manageable. Just kind of tired, now,” she says just barely over the rushing wind.

“Maybe try to nap while we fly…if you can,” Koltira says.

Anarchaia groans apprehensively and turns sidesaddle to curl into his chest while giving the beast a sideways glance. “What if it decides that’s the best time to eat me?”

“Then he’ll have to go through me. Plate-covered jerky.” He kisses her forehead and squeezes his arms tighter around her.

She sticks out her lower lip. “You’re hardly shriveled. Have you looked in a mirror?”

“I imagine I look less dead,” Koltira says. “But I like hearing your compliments.”

Anarchaia gives a forced, quiet laugh. “Well. You’ve got beautiful eyes, long, luxurious hair, chiseled abs, and the brains to back it all up,” she says, finding that the continuous talking takes her mind off the terror.

Koltira chuckles into her ear. “If you insist on lying, then I will have to compliment you until you’re red in the face.”

The human girl scowls. “I’m not a liar. …And please don’t.”

“You don’t want me to tell you how beautiful you are in the sunrise? How your hair catches the colors perfectly and your cheeks turn the sweetest shade of pink?” He brushes her hair from her face. “How can the smartest woman I know not recognize her own beauty?”

Anarchaia looks away, her scowl deepening along with her blush. “Stop it or I’ll jump.”

Koltira moves the arm over her waist that’s keeping her in place. He looks over the side of the wyvern, using his other arm to push her to look at the black abyss below them. “I mean, it does look inviting.”

She gasps, leans back, and clings to him, suddenly very aware of the danger. “Y-yeah for once I think I disagree with you.”

Koltira chuckles and puts his arm back around her. “That’s what I thought.”

~ * ~

Baemalen looks down at the back of Kel’ori’s head and leans down to talk to her instead of yelling. “Are you sure you want to do this? Tempest Keep isn’t a very safe place. It’s swarming with Kael’thas’ militia.”

The mage jerks around to talk to him, then jumps at the closeness of their faces. “What kind of mother would I be? I have to, Bae.”

Baemalen nods after a second. “All right. Promise you’ll be careful?”

She nods. “Do you promise to be careful as well?”

Baemalen gives her a confident grin and winks. “If she gets between you and I, or Grim and I…or Bel and I, then no promises.”

“If anything happens and it’s either Bel or me, promise you’ll save him. And… If anything happens to me…” Kel’ori swallows, unsure what to tell him. _I’m all Bel'theas has_ … Tears spring to her eyes and she turns forward to let the wind blow them away.

Baemalen frowns, then, on impulse, pulls her back to him to again speak in her ear. “Nothing is going to happen to you. And if it does…” he swallows, “I’ll take care of him.”

The mage’s throat goes tight. She closes her eyes as more tears blind her. Gently, Kel’ori leans back until her temple touches to him. “I’m scared.”

Baemalen tenses the slightest bit, heart picking up its pace. He fights through it and brings a hand up to rest on her head while the other grips the reins. “Everything will be okay.”

Kel’ori tenses at the touch but clenches her jaw and forces herself to concentrate on how comforting his arms around her is. Without realizing it, she dozes lightly against his chest, getting a moment of rest that she hadn’t gotten that night.

~ * ~

The dragonhawk slips into the hideout through a secret passageway just barely large enough for him, forcing the two on his back to duck low. Stormbreaker lands among the green trees for the others to dismount. He warbles at the blood knight.

“You did so good, boy,” she says, scratching its chin. She waits by a small pond, then snaps up a fish. “Just one.” A quick snap of its neck renders it motionless. She pauses and offers the fish to Grimory, holding out her other hand for Bel'theas, who has begun to whimper for a meal. “Don’t get too close with the child or Stormbreaker is liable to eat him. Feed him this, though. He’ll consider you a friend.”

Grimory hands over the child and allows the beast to snatch the fish from his palm. It makes a contented noise and sniffs around for more. The Illidari turns to the woman. “Why did you save me?” he says after a second.

The blood knight regards him. Stormbreaker takes flight through the halls, leaving the others alone. She turns and motions for Grimory to follow.

“You’re free to go anywhere within the Botanica. Given that you can sprout your own wings, don’t bother looking for an exit. It’s blocked. The foyer is blocked off as well, don’t try to find a way in. That’s Stormbreaker’s roost and he is very territorial.” She finds a milkplant and pulls off a bud, then shoves the end into Bel'theas’s mouth. “The plants are labeled if you get hungry or thirsty.” She lovingly pats a lasher as it slithers up to her. “Any questions? Besides the one…” She rests on a hip and studies him. “Captivity doesn’t suit you. And, well, as payment for killing all of them I was promised anything I want.” She strides close and trails her fingertips up his arm. “I don’t see why you can’t be on that list.”

“I…can’t fly, yet. I’m still uninitiated.” A flush crawls up his neck at the touch. His lips part in an attempt to tell her that he’s currently in a relationship, but the fear of what she may do to him if he rejects her closes them again. He clears his throat. “Kill who?” he says instead.

“Uninitiated? Hmm… Good.” She leads him to a room out of the way, where a crib has already been set up. “Convenient, no? I was about to use it for firewood.” She sets Bel'theas inside. “Be a good little monster and keep the noise down.” The blood knight leaves the room, expecting Grimory to follow, but not hinting it. “I have a mission. I’m to kill a demon hunter, a mage, two death knights, and a warlock. You can help, if you like. If not, stay out of my way.”

Grimory gives one last curious look at the sleeping baby, then follows. “I’m…not really in the business of killing things that aren’t demons.”

The blood knight shrugs. “Then stay out of my way. It’s really that simple.” She slips her hand into his elbow and steers him away. “Come, let me show you around.”

Grimory nods and allows her to guide him. “Is this not Tempest Keep? It looks…abandoned.”

She _hmphs_ behind her mask. “Something wrong with a little privacy?”

Grimory holds his hands up and stops following, giving a coy grin. “Well. You just had to say…”

“Are you hungry, Mr. Silversong?” the blood knight asks. “Perhaps you’ll join me for… Well, either a late dinner or an early breakfast.”

Grimory’s stomach twists at the thought of food and he sighs. “As much as my pride would protest, I haven’t eaten in days…”

~~Grimory stares curiously at the woman as she sharpens her weapon and he finishes his glass of ale. “You never answered me about who you are. And what you want exactly with that baby.”

She pauses and looks over at him “I believe I did tell you. It’s a dragon halfling, isn’t it? My employer wishes the dragon dead. The child is simply bait.” The blood knight casts her eyes to the blade, then returns to sharpening it. “I haven’t had a name in decades. I wouldn’t even know how to respond to it. Do you require a name for me, or is my promise to keep you from harm satisfactory enough?” Her glowing green eyes peer at him from behind her helm.

Grimory furrows his brow, deciding the answer is good enough for him. “Why does your employer want this dragon dead?” He stares into his cup as though it will answer him instead. “And why didn’t you just take me back to the temple?”

“The temple isn’t a good place to be, right now. As for the dragon… He’s meddling in affairs he’s no business in. He and his band of merry morons.” She stands and brushes the leather of a gloved finger down his cheek. “I do hope we can become friends…Grimory. In time, of course.”

He tenses but does not pull away. “What’s wrong with the temple? It was pretty safe before I was kidnapped,” he responds cautiously.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I promise. You’re safe here.” She smirks behind her mask. “It’s a shame I wasn’t chosen for that mission. Seems more important than exterminating a few vermin.”

He frowns, nearly scowling. “I’m not worried about my safety. What are you blood knights planning?”

The knight hisses behind her helm. “The blood knights? Are you kidding? These pathetic _mongrels_ couldn’t even defend our _Prince!_ You think they are any sort of threat to the Black Temple? Weaklings who couldn’t hold back a small army sent over from Azeroth. Those who don’t die are filthy little turncoats out for their own hides; kneeling down to lick their boots like beaten dogs. They can rot today or in a few years, for all I care.” She crosses the room, her anger palpable in the air.

His worry for his friends rises in his throat. “Then who? Why?”

The woman slowly turns to look at him. She studies him with narrowed eyes. “Have I mistakenly brought a wolf into my den?”

Grimory furrows his brow. “I’m an Illidari. I have friends at the Temple. I was kidnapped. Can you really blame me for being worried about them?”

“If you return to the temple, your fate is no better,” she whispers. Her eyes stare off through a stained-glass window, as though caught in a memory.


	21. Chapter 20

The group eventually lands in a goblin town busy for even that time of night. Anarchaia quickly leaps from the animal and scrabbles away from it, glad to be done with the ordeal for the time being. She blinks over at the second wyvern as it lands, then smiles and bites her lip. “She fell asleep?” she says, gesturing to the curled-up mage in front of Baemalen.

The Illidari nods and dismounts with the woman in his arms. “I guess all this stress has taken a lot out of her. I know it’s urgent but maybe we should rest here for a bit.”

Anarchaia nods and looks around. “I wonder if Grim is here.”

Koltira shakes his head. “You really think he’d take the same path as us? He couldn’t have kept up, either.” He nods in the direction of a lively tavern, the windows on the floors above dark. “Well, at least the inn is easy enough to find.”

“He did have a rather large head start,” Anarchaia mumbles.

He pauses and blinks at the man holding the mage. “You wouldn’t happen to have any gold on you?”

Baemalen turns to the death knight, then merely grins wide. “Plenty. Let’s grab some rooms.” He turns and lowers his voice. “And maybe a drink or five.”

The Illidari leads the way inside, purchasing one room when the other two insist they don’t require one. He brings Kel’ori upstairs and lays her in the bed. After removing her shoes, he ponders for a moment if he should remove the rest of her clothing, then decides against it and pulls the blankets up to her chin. He locks the door on his way out and joins the other two at a table in the corner. “Out like a light. Haha.”

“Wasn’t sure of your poison of choice, so I got you gin. Grimory likes it.” Koltira’s frosted eyes scan the inhabitants, many of whom are staring. “I need a hood,” he complains. “Or to…go back another year.” He throws back his drink and pours more into the small glass.

“I’ll drink nearly anything short of rocket fuel,” Baemalen says as he sits, then lifts the glass in cheers. “And that’s only because the opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet.”

He regards Anarchaia, then the other elf. “Remind you of something?”

Anarchaia takes his glass to drink from it, then tilts her head once. “You didn’t seem too keen on that idea.” She blinks between the two, then smiles. “Just like in Stormheim,” she says with a small blush. “And Val’sharah.”

Baemalen looks between the two. “Oh. Are you two a thing?”

“Not back then, we weren’t,” he says. “First time we met we went to an inn…very different from this one—taller doorways. Me, her, Grim, and Ali.” He chuckles and pours another two fingers, not bothering to take the glass from the mage. “Ali’s cousin and Grim’s best friend? You and Kel make okay replacements. Not sure if a specific activity of that night will be repeated tonight.”

Anarchaia flushes more and takes another sip before handing it back. “I don’t see any dartboards, however.”

Baemalen throws back the two shots and sets the empty glass back down. “Ah. Shame. Was going to try for you myself.” He gives a charming grin to the mage, then chuckles at the death knight’s reaction. “But I won’t.”

She titters embarrassedly.

Grimory sighs as he enters the tavern, then makes his way to their table. “Oh, you guys are taking a break, too?” He slowly sits beside Baemalen, clearly weary.

Koltira narrows his eyes at the mage. “Wrong night.” He tips the bottleneck toward Grimory as greeting. “Oh, now Grim can play his own part.” His lips press into a thin line as he rethinks the comparison. “I take it back. You wanna be Ali for a night?” He flashes a silly grin at the red-haired Illidari.

Anarchaia blinks and furrows her brow. “Which night, then? The first one?”

Grimory looks around at the three. “Oh, are we reminiscing?” He takes Baemalen’s cup immediately after the man is finished pouring a new drink and drinks it himself instead.

Baemalen patiently waits for his cup back as he gives Koltira a curious smile. “Oh, the pretty elf with the black hair, right?” He chuckles. “I can be her. What do I have to do?”

“Well, you have to act unpredictably. Drink far too much cinnamon whiskey…” Koltira smirks to resist smiling. “Flirt shamelessly with Grim.” He holds back a laugh. “And, of course, then you have to fuck him.”

Anarchaia laughs loudly. “Then you have to cut him up while he’s tied to a bed.”

“Oh, so a regular night at the temple, then?” He smiles flirtatiously up at the man beside him, hand still out and waiting for the glass.

Grimory huffs and blushes. “Bae!”

Koltira laughs outright, which draws more unnecessary attention at the hollow echo of his voice. He sneers and averts his gaze. “I should go hide in the room. What do you think my appearance here is doing to the timeline? All death knights were restricted to the Citadel in the four years while Arthas slept. Not many had seen our kind before.” He slides his eyes sideways at Baemalen. “Plug your ears and forget I said that.”

Baemalen pauses, a reserved smile on his face. “Kel’ori told me everything. B-but you can’t blame her!” He sighs. “She’s a mess. It’s really not her fault.”

Anarchaia sighs and crooks her lips to one side. “I mean, it can’t be too big a deal, right? …I hope.” She sets a hand on Koltira’s arm and smiles. “And if you really think it’s so important, no one will blame you for grabbing a room.”

The death knight shrugs at Baemalen. “Just so long as these facts stay between us. No one else can know. Which means when we return to _our_ time, you have to keep your mouth shut. You can’t tell anyone what you may have heard of events yet to happen.” He shakes his head at the mage. “Just tell them I’ve a skin condition. And an eye condition…”

“The fact that you’re with me already says you have an eye condition,” Anarchaia mumbles and takes another drink of gin.

Koltira narrows his eyes at the mage. “I know your weaknesses. Don’t press your luck.”

Anarchaia smiles at him and swirls the contents of her glass. “Oh, but you don’t disagree. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Baemalen holds up a hand. “Your secrets are safe with me— _give me back the godsdamn glass_ ,” he hisses and swipes his cup back from a chuckling Grimory. “Wait, so if you exist in the future, does that mean you survived initiation?”

The other demon hunter nods. “Yeah. Eldon, too if that means anything to you.”

“And Illie?” Baemalen continues with an expectant grin.

Grimory shifts uncomfortably. “N-…no.”

His smile falters. “But-…but how—”

“It’s best not to tell you.” Grimory takes the bottle and takes a long drink.

The death knight points a warning finger at the mage but turns his attention on the Illidari. “Who’s Illie?”

“Illith’ra Calmwind. Grimmie’s main squeeze.” Baemalen pinches Grimory’s cheek, then laughs when his hand is swatted away. His smile grows somber. “Though I guess not for much longer.”

“In a month or so.” Grimory takes another drink.

“So save her! You can stop it, right?”

Grimory grits his teeth and looks away. “I shouldn’t.”

Koltira shakes his head. “We’re under strict orders not to change the past for personal reasons due to the possible repercussions. We have to think about how our actions now will affect the future. How saving someone from his past might change his future. He could save her, but then this version of him would cease to exist. Gone in an instant. And then we are left one man short in this fight.” He takes a long drink and stares at his glass. “If we could all save the one we loved, then our lives would veer off the course we traveled. And then it’s safe to say none of us would be here and the dragon would win and the Legion would successfully invade and possibly conquer the Outlands and Azeroth. Then all will be lost.” He scoffs a laugh. “At least, that’s the argument Taveth gave me.”

Baemalen looks between both Koltira and Grimory. “But…she’s going to die.”

“I know,” Grimory grumbles.

“How, then? At least tell me that much.”

Grimory tenses and turns to glare out the window instead. “I’d really rather not talk about it, yeah?”

Anarchaia clears her throat. “M-maybe some light-hearted banter is in order. How do you think Jorick and Taveth are faring?”

Koltira purses his lips. “I don’t know you… But stop trying to put ideas into his head. If I can’t do it, then he can’t.” He regards Anarchaia across from him. “When was yours?”

Baemalen pouts up at Grimory and the latter scoffs and looks away.

“Puppy eyes aren’t working this time. Trust me. I’d like to.”

Anarchaia perks and blinks. “My…? My death?” She brings up fingers to tick them off. “Well if we’re twenty-three back, it’d be a year or so from now. Why?”

Baemalen turns to the mage. “You’re dead, too? Light above, the future looks bleak. Also, you’re awfully pretty to be scourge.”

She flushes again. “I-I’m not scourge. And I don’t normally look like this. Neither does Grim.”

“I died a year ago and Alisbeth about ten-ish years from now? Ana _can’t_ prevent her own death.” He meets her gaze and his expression softens. “As much as I’d like that… And I can’t save Ali. As much as I’d like that, too.” He pours the last of the bottle into his glass and swallows a mouthful. “And if I have to tie you down or throw you into some pit to keep you from changing the future… I will.”

“Me?” Baemalen frowns and opens his mouth a few times as he articulates his thoughts. “I won’t. I told Kel I wouldn’t.” He sighs, his smile growing somber again. “At least you and Donnie made it.” He pats Grimory on the shoulder.

The other grunts in response.

Baemalen retracts his hand. “The years have clearly made you grumpier.” He chuckles.

Anarchaia looks away from Koltira to catch her reflection in the empty bottle. She frowns and brings a thumbnail to her lips to nibble on the tip.

Koltira sets his hand on hers. “You know I love you, no matter what.”

She smiles back up at him. “I know. I love you, too.”

Baemalen _tsk_ s and puts his cheek in a hand. “Awe.”

Grimory lifts a finger for another bottle, this time of whiskey. “Don’t encourage them, yeah? They’ll be at it all night.”

Koltira casts the Illidari a sly smile. “We don’t need encouragement to be at it all night.”

Baemalen’s ears perk. “Ooh. Maybe they’ll let me join?”

Grimory gives him a bemused stare. “I’m glad you haven’t changed.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen some and she clears her throat as her face turns scarlet. “S-so how are you and Kel’ori getting along?”

Baemalen chuckles at her reaction. “She was rather suspicious of me at first, but I think I’ve grown on her. Her baby is super cute.” He looks at Grimory. “Or should I say _your_ baby?”

He scowls. “She told you—?!” He lowers his voice. “She told you that?”

“I said she told me everything.”

“Are you just _trying_ to ruin my night? Is that it?”

Baemalen gives him a sympathetic smile. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Was hoping you’d be complimented. I said he’s cute.”

“No more talking about me, yeah?” Grimory moodily swipes the bottle from the waitress as she brings it to him, then drinks straight from it after he opens it.

Koltira blinks rapidly. “Yeah. Cute… That’s uh… Not the word I’d use for it. It’s also not Grim’s.” He raises his bottle to signal the waitress he’d like another.

“Have you even really gotten to know him or hold him? Little Bel is definitely cute.” He glances again at Grimory. “Oh right. A demon?”

The other Illidari sighs dramatically. “ _You know_ ,” he hisses, “that… _event_ was just as traumatic for me, too. You of all people—”

Baemalen holds up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Sorry.” He sighs. “But he really is adorable.”

“I tried to hold him, but…he clearly didn’t want that. Heh.” Anarchaia rolls one of Koltira’s fingers between her thumb and forefinger. “I love babies, but babies don’t particularly love me.”

Kel’ori mumbles, then jerks. She jolts awake and looks around, bewildered. “Bae? _Bae!_ ”

Baemalen’s ears prick and he glances around the crowded tavern, then shrugs.

“One day,” Koltira whispers only for the mage. He wraps his large hand around her smaller one and holds tight. “If you haven’t decided to hate me before then.”

Anarchaia smiles. “I don’t see how it’ll ever be possible,” she says and purses her lips through her smile, rubbing his thumb with her own. “And I could never hate you.”

The corner of Koltira’s lips twitches upward. “You mean I’m not making it easy enough?”

The high elf runs through the hallways, lost and frantic, until she happens across the tavern. She rushes to the table, her eyes wide. “Bae? What are we— Which Grim are you?”Grimory purses his lips and looks up at her from beneath his brow. “The bad one.”

Baemalen lifts a hand to calm her. “Kel! Calm down. We’re just taking a break, okay? You fell asleep.”

The mage purses her lips at Grimory. “I-I’m sorry.” Her frantic eyes sweep over the others. “Okay, well, are you rested?”

Koltira narrows his eyes. “No. Why don’t you go take a shower or something? Freshen up.”

“But, Bel!”

The blond demon hunter shakes his head. “I can barely stretch my wings let alone fly.” He rolls a shoulder and winces in demonstration. “I’m not going anywhere for a bit.”

Baemalen frowns up at her. “Surely she won’t murder a baby in cold blood. We can confront her in the morning when we’re rested.”

The mage breaks down, sobbing and trying to say something, but it all comes out as nonsense over her crying as she wipes at her eyes.

Koltira cringes. “The showers are on the second floor. End of the hall.”

She nods and says more incomprehensible things, then turns and shuffles away, still wiping at her tears.

The two Illidari grimace at one another.

Anarchaia sighs then looks at the bottle Koltira had ordered as it’s placed between them. “I feel so badly for her. I can only imagine what she’s going through.”

Koltira shakes his head. “I don’t want to imagine what she’s going through.”

Baemalen plucks the bottle from Grimory’s hand. “Maybe I should go console her after she’s done with her sad shower.” He drinks from it and slaps the other Illidari’s hand away when he reaches for it.

“Perhaps you should. You two seem to be getting along well anyway.” Anarchaia smirks.

Baemalen flushes lightly. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“Not for some demon felspawn,” Grimory growls as he continues to try and grab his whiskey.

Koltira shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m with Grim on this one. Not _anyone_ would. It’s okay, you’re not the first to fall for Kel’ori’s…” he momentarily rounds his hand to indicate breasts over his own chest, then takes his bottle back up. “…charms.”

Anarchaia lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “Oh, and who was? You?”

Koltira scoffs. “I was too busy with you, if you recall. She was completely happy with your little friend’s attention.”

Baemalen purses his lips. “That had nothing to do with it!” He frowns at them. “You all really wouldn’t take care of a defenseless baby just because it was part demon?” He straightens when he gets no response. “Really?”

Grimory shifts uncomfortably. “I think you’re missing the point.”

The death knight swirls his drink and nods at Grimory’s words. “She gave Grim no choice in the matter. She didn’t care about how he felt. She wanted to be in it alone, so she gets to be in it alone.”

Baemalen’s frown deepens as he looks between the two men next. “I-I suppose I can’t blame you. At least, from what I understand, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but now I have a living, breathing reminder of just how much it _wasn’t my fault_.” Grimory drinks, scowling.

Baemalen studies him. “What happened to you?”

Grimory growls and stands. “Life,” he grunts and turns toward the stairway. “Good night.”

Anarchaia fidgets with her fingers. “He won’t talk about it.”

Baemalen blinks at her. “Talk about what?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He never told me. But I imagine it’s why he isn’t the Grimory you’ve known, anymore.”

Koltira shrugs. “The only person he isn’t a complete asshole to is Ali. And Diori. And probably whatever chick he’s trying to fuck next and never talk to again.”

Baemalen cringes. “The Grim I know is a snarky but happy kid. Not a mean bone in his body.” He sighs. “Wait, Diori. That name sounds familiar. Who is that?”

“His daughter,” Koltira says simply.

Baemalen shakes his head. “No, he said it was a woman he’d been with. Wait, he has another child?” He scoffs. “Out there starting families. Must be nice.”

“Tell me about it,” Anarchaia mumbles, slowly swirling Koltira’s bottle.

“Another accident,” Koltira growls. “Alisbeth. She’s the woman he was talking about. Lied about her name. Then of course never talked about it again, not even to me, and we were married. By the way, our little group is fucked beyond reason. Welcome to the freak show.” He slips the bottle from the mage and pours more into his glass, then returns it to her hand.

Baemalen lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head, then sighs. “I’m no stranger to freakshows. I grew up in an orphanage, after all.” He smiles. “And if you knew my friends back at the temple…”

“We all have stories. So, what’s yours?” Koltira asks.

Baemalen gives a nervous titter. “Oh, I’m nothing special. Parents died when I was young and my sister was only a baby. We grew up in an orphanage and when I was old enough, I joined the militia and was sent here.”

“And where is your sister now?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. She was adopted long before I left. They didn’t want me, though. Heh.”

Koltira shrugs. “Silvermoon? You’re several years younger than me. Maybe I know a name?”

“Chassandra Dawnwhisper?”

The death knight scratches at his jawline. “I’m actually not sure. I’m sorry.”

The Illidari shrugs again. “Ah, that’s all right. Honestly if I just knew she was happy somehow, I wouldn’t care where she is.”

“Not many people made it out of Silvermoon.” He catches the mage’s look and clears his throat. “I’m sure she’s fine, though.”

Baemalen’s smile grows reserved but it’s clear he’s distressed beneath. “I know. But…I just have this feeling, y’know? Like she’s still out there. Probably thinking of me, too.”

Anarchaia pouts. “Aw. Bae.” She reaches over to pat his arm. “I’m sure she is.”

Koltira takes a drink but chooses not to give the man any comforting words of false hope.

She sighs and takes a drink from the bottle. “I mean it.”

Baemalen smiles. “I know. I think so, too. I also think you’re drunk.”

Anarchaia chuckles. “I’ve had two shots _max_.”

“No one holds their liquor quite like the undead,” Koltira comments wryly.

Baemalen chuckles. “Right. I keep forgetting. I can’t imagine you being any less pretty, though.”

Anarchaia flushes. “N-no. Really. Without the illusion I look like a true undead.” She drinks from Koltira’s cup without asking.

Koltira glares over at the mage. “She isn’t. She’s still beautiful, no matter what.”

She gives her partner a shy smile.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” the redhead asks.

Anarchaia runs her teeth over her lower lip and sighs. “A band of rogues broke into my house. Killed my cat, then my parents, then me. But they’ve since been taken care of.”

Baemalen huffs and scowls. “Evil really knows no bounds, does it?”

~ * ~

Kel’ori’s ears perk as the door opens. She wipes her eyes and continues squeezing her wet hair with a puffy towel. “You must hate me even more, now. I have no excuse that you don’t know… Thank you for helping.” She breaks down again, crying into her palm. “Even though you h-hate—”

“I don’t hate you.” Grimory sighs and closes the door quietly. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been rude. I just—… This is all very stressful.” He runs a hand down his face. “And, if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to come…”

Kel’ori scoffs and sniffs. “Of course you didn’t. I bet you thought long and hard about letting him d—” She flinches and bites her lip. “He’s innocent. My son is innocent. It’s a shame you can’t see that. All you see is the bad, and it’s blinded you.”

“No, _he_ made—” Grimory’s jaw works as he chooses his words. “I know he’s innocent. That’s not the point, yeah? I just…” He sighs. “It’s like looking at a photo of what happened every day. And I know you don’t believe me, but it…it kills me, too. Inside.”

She shakes her head. “He’s a victim in this, too, Grim. Don’t you get it? None of us asked for this. Punishing him would be like punishing you or me. Which, I’m sorry about. You were being a stubborn ass.” She purses her lips. “How do I get you to cooperate? Your past self, I mean. He won’t eat.”

Grimory scowls, again holding back the scathing words he has prepared on the tip of his tongue. He swallows them. “Can’t say I’ve ever been too fond of being forced to do things. But being offered things in exchange for stuff, or feeling like I have a choice would help…” He shrugs. “Otherwise I’d definitely starve myself out of spite alone.”

Kel’ori purses her lips at him. “And what about when I _was_ being nice? And you kicked things at me. You broke my nice dishes. You don’t respond to anything because you’re just a self-serving asshole. Some things never change.” She plants herself on the bed, her back to him.

Grimory straightens and bristles. “Yeah, I’m _so sorry_ for things I, myself, didn’t even do! Or…he himself…” He scoffs and throws his hands up as he turns. “Why do you constantly do this?! I always come to you with intentions of apologizing, and you somehow find a way to throw it in my face!”

Kel’ori snaps to her feet. “Because you’re not sincere! You’re never sincere! The only time you’ve ever tried to be friendly with me was when you asked me to kill our baby. Yes, _ours._ Regardless how little you contributed to any of it. And now you’re only here, because, why? Why did you suddenly show up to save the day when it’s so obvious you would rather stand by as a defenseless infant dies, than actually do anything to help.” A pair of fat tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you didn’t have anything to do with Diori. I bet you’d let her die, too.”

Grimory crosses the room in two strides and is quickly towering over her. Face set in ire, he bends to inches from her face, breath still laden with whiskey and gin. “ _He_ made me come. As far as I’m concerned, that abomination is yours and _his_ ,” he says in a low, cold tone. “And if you ever question my love for my daughter again, I’ll do a lot worse than get in your face.”

The mages stands her ground, her lips shivering. “You don’t scare me anymore. What’s it say about you when the monster has more compassion than you do?” She shakes her head. “You miserable man. You would rather dwell on the bad that happened in the past than accept it and find any sort of joy in what you _do_ have in spite of everything. So, go ahead and hurt me, if that’s your intention. Because I don’t for a minute think you’re even capable of caring.”

Grimory’s fists clench and he also does not move. “Your manipulation won’t work on me,” he says, only half lying. He studies her face. “What is it you want from me?”

Kel’ori pauses, her lips puckering and her chin wrinkling as she thinks. “Maybe I just wanted my son to have a real father.” She steps back and looks around for her words. “I just want him to be good. I know he can be. He’s not a monster. But I’m so afraid that I’m not good enough. Diori has had so many people who love her, including her parents. Bel doesn’t have anyone. No one wants to make sure he stays good… I’m all he has. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this mess together. And maybe… Maybe I just wanted you to care.” She ends her quiet thoughts by wiping at her eyes.

Grimory bites his lower lip when the mage turns away. He runs a hand through his bangs and sets the other on his hip as he struggles for words. Finally he sighs. “F—…fine.”

“Two words I never thought I’d hear from you.” She shakes her head and sits back down. “You really remember all this? Do you remember if he’s okay after t-two days?” She does her best to hold back the sobs of worry trying to break though, instead biting at the inside of her cheek to keep her composure.

Grimory folds his arms and ignores the slight. “I only remember what’s happening at this very moment. And from what I know, he’s fine.”

Kel’ori lets out a long breath of relief. She clenches her fists over her heart and lets her tears flow freely and quietly. “Let me know…if anything changes?”

Grimory sighs and waits for what feels like ages before crossing the room again and wrapping his arms around her in a gentle hug. “Sure,” he says simply. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll-… I’ll do my best.”

Kel’ori stiffens in the embrace, then tentatively returns it. “Thank you.” She wipes her eyes as he pulls away. “I think we should both get some rest.” She motions at the second bed. “If you think you can handle sharing a room with me.”

Grimory nods. “Well there aren’t any other vacant rooms, anyway, so I guess it’ll have to do.” He sighs, still clearly very stressed, and sheds his shirt to crawl into the second bed. “Night.”

The high elf slips under the covers of her designated bed, fully clothed. As quietly as she can, she cries herself back to sleep.

~ * ~

After enough drinks, Baemalen sways in place and smiles dreamily at nothing. “Y’know,” he slurs, “it’s so sweet that the two of you have—” He hiccups. “—have each other. This world is filled with shitty people and shitty things, but yoooou…” He sets a hand on Koltira’s shoulder. “You got lucky.” He finishes his bottle and slams it on the table hard enough to rouse the remaining patrons.

Anarchaia chuckles. “I think it’s time for bed.”

Koltira blinks down at the man. “Yeah. I’m very lucky. I’m sure you will be, too, one day.” He smirks at the mage. “Let’s get you back to the room before I have to carry you like a damsel in distress.” He pulls the man up by his arm and waits as he finds his footing. “Come on, Ana. Help me get him to bed and maybe we can find something to occupy the rest of our night?”

Anarchaia hums a laugh and puts herself beneath Baemalen’s arm. She helps him up to the room number on his key, giggling at his incoherent ramblings along the way. She opens the door and blinks at the two in separate beds. “Hm. Who do you want to spoon, Bae?”

The elf chuckles and teeters. “If you ever have the opportunity to put me in bed with a pretty lady and you don’t do it, are you even my friend?”

“So Grim, then?”

Baemalen untangles himself from the two and saunters over to Kel’ori’s side. He crawls onto the bed, collapses beside her, and is out in seconds.

Anarchaia hums a laugh into her fingertips. “Awe.”

Koltira sighs at the scene, then takes her under his arm. “Too bad there’s only one of those things available to me… A pretty girl in a bed,” he clarifies. “Then again, who needs a bed when the shower is vacant?” He steers her down the hallway.


	22. Chapter 21

Kel’ori wakes in the morning. Eyes still closed, she breathes in and pauses at the warmth against her back. She lifts the blanket to look down at the arm around her waist, then blinks over her shoulder at the head of red hair on the pillow beside her. _Stay or get up?_ She looks at him again. _He’s so peaceful. I’ll stay…just a little longer_.

Baemalen groans as he slowly wakes. He realizes just how tangled up in her he is and sits up quickly when he sees she’s awake. “I-I’m sorry! I don’t even remember coming up here. I-I must have been really out of it.” He rubs at his eyes. “I don’t think…we…”

“Not while I was here,” Grimory grumbles and laces his tunic. “Get washed and let’s get going.”

Kel’ori gives a small giggle. “Trust me, Grim, you wouldn’t be the reason not to.” She thinks on her wording and opens her mouth to deliver an underhanded jab at their shared scar. But his words and actions from the night before pop into her head and she changes her mind. “How far do you think we have to go?” she asks. “And where are Ana and Koltira?”

“Not much longer. An hour or so.” He purses his lips. “And probably somewhere to do what they always do when they’re alone.”

“Play board games?” Baemalen chuckles at the grumpy look he receives. He blinks and looks over his shoulder at Kel’ori. “W-wait. You’d really…?”

“Hurry up,” Grimory says one last time before exiting into the hallway. He finds the two in question down in the tavern, sharing an armchair in front of the fireplace—the mage idly running her fingers through a lock of Koltira’s hair while the latter does his best to read a book while she sits across his lap. “I take it you two are ready.”

Kel’ori gives a calculated scoff. “With someone else in the room? Or with _you?_ ” She doesn’t wait for clarification. Instead she produces two hairbrushes: one with strands of blonde threaded within the bristles, and the other with strands of red. “Walk and brush. Time’s wasting.” She does as she’d instructed, going downstairs as she smooths her golden locks. She orders a quick breakfast, then shovels the eggs and bacon onto the toast to make two sandwiches, wraps it in a napkin, then finds the others. “Ready?”

Koltira pauses, his mouth open. “I was literally just telling Grim we’re always—”

“Okay, good, let’s go.” She drops some gold on the counter from a pouch previously belonging to a daraenei enjoying a bloody mary. When she gets to the doorway, the other Illidari appears. “You look hung over. Eat this.” She hands him one of the sandwiches, then heads outside, stuffing her own breakfast into her mouth.

Anarchaia shrugs up at Koltira and gets up to follow.

Baemalen, silent this entire time, gives a grateful smile for the food. “Thanks. It’s the hangover. Oh, Grim! Wait!”

The blond man stops and looks over his shoulder curiously.

“Can I see? I wanna see,” Baemalen says with a full cheek.

Grimory sighs. His wings pull out from beneath his skin, stretching and groaning as they spread. “The Botanica.” He gestures in the direction with a thumb. “I’ll see you there.” He leaps into the air and is gone.

“Cool,” the red-haired man croons dreamily.

“Rethinking the bed you slept in?” Kel’ori asks from the flight master.

Baemalen sets a hand on his hip and gives her a coy smile. “Maybe. Why? You jealous?” He hands the money over.

The mage rolls her eyes. “It was rather cold last night. The extra warmth was helpful.”

Baemalen chuckles and pulls her onto the saddle in front of him. “It’s okay to admit you liked it.”

She twists around to look at him. “I’m not the one who cuddled the other, now, am I?” She turns around with a smirk. “And, no, I didn’t hate it. But I think ‘like’ is a generous word.”

Koltira wraps an arm around Anarchaia’s shoulders. “Okay, so, less screaming at takeoff this time? Yes?”

Anarchaia fidgets. “No promises. Heh.” The wyvern eyes her warily from its perch and she whines. “I may not make it to takeoff.”

Koltira covers the mage’s eyes. “Better?”

Anarchaia perks. “Yes.” The wyvern yawns, a quiet growl escaping it as they approach. She backs into Koltira and grabs the sides of his thighs. “No.”

Koltira shoves her forward and lifts her up. He sits behind her and pulls her to him. “Remember what I said yesterday? He won’t hurt you.

Both wyverns take off after being given instructions. “Oof. My heart. I think it’s broken. Feel it?” Baemalen presses his chest to her back. “Shattered.”

Kel’ori jerks forward at the suddenness with which he presses into her. She turns her head and forces a sly smile. “Guess you need someone to help with that? Ana’s good at mending things. I’m sure Koltira won’t mind.”

The human mage cries out, but the remainder of her screaming is drowned out behind the death knight’s palm.

Koltira holds the woman tight. “How should I distract you today?”

Anarchaia shakes her head, eyes clamped shut. “You don’t have to. I-I’m a big girl. I can…manage.”

The death knight chuckles and squeezes her tighter. “Did you know that you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen?”

Anarchaia purses her lips, face red. “Did you know that you’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met?”

Baemalen returns the grin, not showing any signs of offense that she’d pulled away. “I’m sure he wouldn’t. But would you?”

Kel’ori laughs, genuinely entertained. “You sure think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Mm. _Highly_ isn’t the word I’d use. In fact, I really don’t have any self-confidence and put up the illusion that I do as a defense mechanism.” He smiles. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

She laughs again, using the action to cover her own twinge of sad recognition to his words. “A little empty flirtation never hurt anyone, right? Are you saying I need to try it?”

Baemalen shrugs a shoulder and makes a noise of thought. “Couldn’t hurt, right? Or maybe it could. Light forbid either if us actually develop feelings.” His grin widens.

“For you? Or for someone I _actually_ flirt with?” Her smile changes from one of snark, to a small one as she realizes how he’d been unintentionally distracting her from her worry, and how her nerves had calmed over the flight thus far.

“You haven’t been flirting with me?” Baemalen gives an innocent shrug. “My romance detector must be off. Mind flirting for real to help me recalibrate it?” He winks at her.

Kel’ori turns away, not used to a man who so boldly flirts with her and finding she cannot help the small flush in her cheeks—though maybe it’s just the wind? “If I flirted with you, you’d melt like butter. I’m not sure you could handle it,” she says.

His smirk grows playful. “No one’s ever short-circuited my detector before. You’d be the first, little lady.” He tightens his grip on the reins as the wyvern beneath them shifts, but makes sure to keep his distance lest he make Kel’ori uncomfortable again.

“I believe you’re enjoying this, Bae. Or are my wires crossed?” She grips his arm at her side as the wyvern tilts.

He laughs quietly at her covert fear. “Maybe neither of us are working properly.” The wyvern, as though annoyed by their prattling, shifts again and the Illidari reflexively wraps an arm around the mage’s waist. “Now you stop that!”

The mage stiffens and digs terrified fingernails into Baemalen’s arm, digging in deeper the longer he holds onto her.

_I like blondes._

“No! Let go, let go, _letgoofme_!” She breathes deep as tears sting her eyes, and she scratches at his forearm.

The Illidari immediately releases her, then grabs the back of her robes as she flails. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! I-I didn’t want you to fall!” He hisses at the weeping claw marks on his arm, doing his best to keep the blood off her clothes. “Are you all right?”

Kel’ori covers her face and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed. Oh gods, are you okay?” She turns to look at him, using a finger to push the tears from her eyes. “Please tell me you’re okay?”

Baemalen lowers his arm to hide it from her view and gives her an embarrassed smile. “I’m fine. I-I wasn’t thinking. It was a reflex. I’m sorry.” He chuckles. “But at least you aren’t splattered on the ground.”

Kel’ori nods in agreement. “I know. I know you were just trying to help. Ugh. _Shit!_ Why can’t I just…get over it. Be normal again.”

Baemalen sighs and leans down to talk but not enough to get too close. “You won’t ever be over it. And that’s fine. It wasn’t your fault.” He furrows his brow. “The best you can do is live like you did. Or better.”

“It’s not the same, Bae. You don’t understand. I know you were hurt, but…it’s just not the same.” She turns back to stare at the back of the wyvern’s head. “I just want it to be over.”

An urge rises in Baemalen’s throat but he swallows it after a moment’s consideration. “Y-yeah. You’re right. Heh. The best I can do is be there for you if you need it.” He sighs, though his smile remains. “And the best you can do is be there for Bel.”

~ * ~

Koltira chuckles and turns the mage slightly, putting his hand on her cheek so she looks at him, rather than their surroundings. “Did you know that I never lie to you? Especially when I tell you that you’re the most powerful woman I’ve ever known.”

Anarchaia cracks one eye open to look up at him, then opens both as she frowns. “You’re just trying to distract me with sweet nothings,” she huffs, hair whipping around her face. “If you don’t stop I’ll have to compliment you, too.”

“Oh, no,” Koltira says, laughing, “How dare I distract you from endless screaming, preventing you from ruining that beautiful voice of yours.”

Anarchaia scowls, her ears growing hot. She turns away and folds her arms. “Yeah? Well…your muscles are hot. And your face is…cute. And you’re not dumb.”

Koltira feigns offense. “I beg your pardon, but my muscles are just as frosty as the rest of me. And this face? Please. You couldn’t handle the real deal, if _this_ pleases you.” He chuckles and kisses the back of her head.

Anarchaia blinks up at him, lips shifting to one side as curiosity takes her. “I honestly can’t imagine you being anymore handsome. How differently could you possibly have looked?” She reaches up to press a fingertip to one of his cold, sunken cheeks.

He thinks on her words and shrugs. “I think a blue skin tone, nearly black lips, and snowy eyes kind of changes things, don’t you?”

Anarchaia’s face softens and her hand cups his cheek instead of poking at it. “Well you were quel’dorei, right? Statistically most likely with blue eyes? So that’s not a big difference.” She smiles. “And even so, this is the face of the man I fell in love with. So, if you say you’re ugly, then you’re insulting my judgment.”

“Nah, just your eyesight. You should probably borrow Taveth’s glasses sometime and see if it clears a few things up.” He gives her a charming, albeit silly, smile.

She responds with a bemused stare. “My eyesight prior to my accident was…well, not twenty-twenty due to my condition, _but it’s well enough!_ ” She folds her arms and turns away, smirking as her hair flutters about in his face. “Maybe you’re the one who needs glasses.”

Koltira smirks like a devil and brushes her white hair behind one of her ears. “Maybe tinted ones to help keep me from being blinded by the radiance of your beauty.”

“Maybe black ones. Because you’re clearly blind.” She flicks her head to one side so that her tresses shake free again. “Besides, if you’d met me before I’d died, taking care of me would have been too much work for you.”

Koltira’s brow furrows. “Were you still alive in this time? Cause, I mean, I _could_ …”

Anarchaia quickly turns to look at him. “You could what?” She purses her lips and scowls. “No. Don’t you know what that would mean? …For _us?_ ”

He gives her a sad smile and runs the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Give us more time together. Maybe a chance at making your biggest dream come true. A chance to give you the life you deserved to live, instead of the one you were forced to take.” The pad of his thumb rests beside the eye which is missing behind the image of her former self. “If I could take away all of the hurt…”

Anarchaia’s scowl melts into an expression of sorrow and she shakes her head. “N-no. If I don’t die, I’ll never meet Master. Then I’ll never meet Grim, then I’ll never meet you.” A tear wells in her good eye. “Besides, you could save Ali instead. And you could both be happy. She’d have her baby. You’d have a family. L-…like you wanted.”

Koltira’s smile fades into a pensive frown. “It’s too late for me in this timeline. But…what’s so wrong with saving you two? If I tell you what you need to know, you can have that apprenticeship. Jorick has a point. Why can’t we fix the past while we’re here? You didn’t deserve your fate. Neither did she.”

A tear rolls down her cheek. “But… I’d lose you. We’d never have Stormheim or Val’sharah. Or Argus.” Her lower lip gives a small quiver and she turns away to hide her crying. “But…I guess…you’d be happier, right? That’s what matters…”

“You really think I wouldn’t leave something to bring us together? A letter? Something.”

Anarchaia shakes her head and rubs at her cheek. “You’ll have her, still. You wouldn’t need me anyway.” She sniffles.

Koltira wipes the tear away and wraps the mage in his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Yes, I would. You just…deserve so much better. In life and…and in love. Maybe that’s worth destroying the timeline over. At least for me, it is.”

The human hugs the death knight’s arm to her chest and groans in apprehension. “…you think we could really have a life together?”

Koltira chuckles and strokes her hair. “You really think the living you would put up with my insufferable, grumpy ass?”

Anarchaia smiles. “I think it’s more my parents who would have a hard time accepting you. My taste in men has never changed.”

Koltira forces a fake scoff of offense. “Oh, so now I’m just like all the others, huh? Just go with any random mercenary, then. At least maybe he’d be a _living_ insufferable, grumpy ass.”

Anarchaia blinks and tilts her head back to look up at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Jorick and I weren’t even together anymore at this time.”

“I mean, you just basically said we’re all the same. Pretty girl like you would have no trouble finding another one of us assholes.” Koltira chuckles, then sobers some. “I’m serious. If I could…” He presses a kiss to her temple. “You deserve so much more. So much better.”

Anarchaia flushes and smiles, turning her head to press her lips to his while he’s close. “You aren’t an asshole. And I don’t even deserve what I have now, let alone better.” She grips his arm as they near the structure.

~ * ~

Kel’ori nods. “Grim said he’s still okay. Do you think we’re nearly there?” she asks as the scenery changes beneath them.

The sky darkens and the land beneath turns to bleak black. Spires reach to the heavens, shooting electrical bolts into the ground around them.

Baemalen nods and points to an imposing structure floating against the black sky in the distance. “That’s Tempest Keep.”

She grips his hand and pulls it to her collar bones as a comfort to herself. “We’ll bring him home. We’re almost there.” Her heart thunders in her chest in anticipation.

A hint of color tints Baemalen’s cheeks. “We will.” He mulls over a thought. “Maybe when you get back you can ask Vendormu to send you back. For your safety.”

Kel’ori frowns at the thought, then forces a smile for his benefit as she turns to look over her shoulder at him. “Sick of me already?”

“N-no!” Baemalen waves a hand. “I just-… This is no place for a mother and her newborn.” He shrugs. “What with all the murderous orcs and elves about.”

“That exists in my time, too, Bae. In my time Dalaran has moved to the middle of the ocean over a place called the Broken Isles. Why? Because the Legion came back. I was on Argus when I was attacked. That’s a whole other planet, you know. It just suddenly appeared in the skies over Azeroth. You’d have to ask my brother for the details.” She lets go of his hand and smiles wider. “You’re probably right. I should take Bel'theas back home. Irritate Docra in her one-room shack. Scare off her customers until she tells me to go home. Where my father…” She chokes on her own words. “He already tried to kill him once. And I don’t think Master Kalec would react much differently.” She swallows and shakes her head, but not to say no. “What about you? Are you just going to hang out alone in that shack, waiting for Venny-poo to return and wearing a bag over your head to feed Grim?”

Baemalen knits his brow at the deluge of information. He refrains from telling her that her information on Argus is nothing new to him. “Mm. No. I’ll probably let Grim go, if I’m being honest. Maybe make my way to Shattrath. Hope Lord Illidan doesn’t find me. Or go through the portal.”

“Looks like neither of us really has anywhere to go.” Kel’ori looks into his eyes, her jaw set in stubborn defiance. “And I’ll be damned if I let some eyebrowless cunt and a few smelly orcs chase me away from that rickety shitpile I spent so much energy furnishing and decorating.” She nods once and turns to face the temple. “We should paint the walls. Maybe put some critters in Bel’s corner? You think he’d like ducks or something like bats?” She sucks on her bottom lip, the gleam of her creative passion sparkling in her eyes as she turns to face the man again.

Baemalen’s eyebrows raise at the word _cunt_ and he chuckles. He watches the passion as it slowly spreads across her face, his own smile growing. “Asking me to move in, are you? I don’t know, this is all so sudden.”

The mage smirks at him. “Oh, but we’ve got the loveliest deteriorating hammocks, a roof two seconds from caving in, and a _dungeon._ Who can resist a nice dungeon? Bet you’d like for me to shackle you up, mmm?” Her eyebrow lifts upward, along with the corner of her lips.

His eyebrows lift again. “Ooh. Can’t knock it ‘til I’ve tried it, eh?” He gives a nervous chuckle. “Though I think I prefer my hands and feet unfettered, thank you.” He tightens his grip on the reins as they near the ledge.

Kel’ori gives her most flirtatious giggle. She leans to him as the wyvern lands, her eyelids lowered. “I’m sure I could make you quite comfortable…including in chains.” She hops off the creature and casts the man one final, somewhat sensual, smile, then goes to meet the others as they land.


	23. Chapter 22

Koltira helps Anarchaia from the wyvern and nods to the other mage. “Did you see Grim?” He looks around to answer his own question. “We should make a plan. First part of the plan is that he _cannot_ be in the same room with his past self. Not even for a second. He can’t see himself.” He points at Kel’ori. “How’s your energy?”

“Fine, why?”

“You’re going to have to teleport him out. To the house, if you can.”

She whimpers. “But, Bel! I need to—”

He growls, hating the defensive part of him that doesn’t want to see any harm come to an infant, but also thankful that he still has that morality within him. “We’ll get him. I promise.”

“But…I should be there…”

“We can handle Bel,” the smaller mage reassures. She smiles. “You can trust me. Do you think you have it in you?”

“Over here!” Grimory calls from the other end of the platform near a boarded-up entryway.

Baemalen jogs to meet him, then scrunches his face. “It smells like death over here.”

Kel’ori nods at the other mage and takes a deep breath. At the door, she holds a wrist over her nose. “What…is that smell?”

Koltira scowls. “Even with my weak sense of smell, I’d know it anywhere. It’s decaying flesh. A smell this strong… I’ve only encountered it in mass graves.” He looks to the mages. “Think two fireballs are strong enough to blow it open?”

“My arcane is stronger,” Kel’ori chirps proudly.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “One arcane ball and one fireball?”

Anarchaia nods and, with Kel’ori, blasts through the barricade. The smell and a strange, damp warmth rushes out to meet them tenfold. Everyone, even the undead, recoils to cover their faces as though the scent alone could burn off their eyebrows.

Grimory, eyes watering, brings himself to look, then nearly chokes on his own voice. “Dear gods,” he mumbles.

Baemalen looks and gives the smallest noise of surprise. “Wh-who could’ve—… Did _she_ —??”

Anarchaia looks upon the mass of bodies—both flesh and floral—and turns away again as her stomach flips. “There’s no way.”

Kel’ori stumbles away and vomits across the stony balcony. “Oh, gods. How many, do you think?”

Koltira takes a step inside and peers into the large entry chamber. “At very least? A hundred…give or take.” He notices a makeshift nest of some sort, put together with tattered clothes, blankets, blood elf banners, and some dried plants. Within is a pair of legs still in the chainmail, though there is no torso to be found. “Shit,” he hisses, backing back out. “Fucking dragonhawk.”

“What about it?”

“This is its roost.”

Just then, Stormbreaker swoops down and squawks at them, but only his beak fits through the door. The creature screams, shrill and angry, its sharp beak covered in blood.

“I can’t do thi—” Kel’ori gags again as she stumbles into the wall encircling the building. “I want to go home,” she whimpers, but doesn’t teleport away as she thinks of her child being in such a place.

Baemalen goes to her and sets a calming hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you can do this. You aren’t alone, all right?”

Grimory readies his claws. “May as well add him to his own hoard, then, yeah?”

Anarchaia’s palms fill with fire. “You’re sure this is the place?”

He nods. “Positive. We just need to get past…him.”

Kel’ori nods and summons a bundle of fresh mint from the stalls in Shattrath. She hands some to Baemalen and holds some out to Grimory.

“To mask the smell a little,” she says, holding her own in a fist to crush it. She spreads some on her upper lip, then stows the bundle in her bag to free up her hands. The mage readies an arcane blast.

Stormbreaker’s beak snaps shut and he sticks an eye in the doorway. It zips up and down the figure of Grimory, then he pushes his nose back out and sniffs. He squawks, then warbles, and then is gone from the opening.

Koltira narrows his eyes. “I trust that less than a blatant attack.” He tilts his head at Grimory. “Together. Mages behind, ginger, you’re at the back.”

“Baemalen,” Kel’ori informs him forcefully.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. Eyes up.” He signals to let Grimory go through the door first.

Baemalen chuckles and throws a red lock back over his shoulder. “He’s just jealous that my hair is longer than his.” He says from the back.

Grimory rolls his eyes and cautiously steps through the doorway. His throat tightens at the stench filtering through the mint. “She’s even killed the lashlings,” he says, doing his best to step over the corpses.

Anarchaia ties her robes at her hip but cringes at the blood and viscera staining the soles of her white boots. “You really think she did all this?”

“These are her people…her _allies!_ ” Kel’ori says past the palm holding the mint. She gags again and closes her eyes. Her hand blindly grasps for Baemalen’s as she feels his warmth behind her. “I can’t look.”

Baemalen grips her hand gently. “Well, no one accused her of being the good guy.”

Koltira grits his teeth. “Another barricade. Okay. Everyone know what they’re doing?”

“Kill it with fire?” Anarchaia says and blasts the barricade with flames while Grimory helps with his own.

“I think he means after this,” the blond drones.

“Even bad people have loyalties.” Kel’ori says. She stops in her tracks and listens.

In a distant room of the Botanica, Bel’theas lay screaming and alone in a crib, crying for attention and food.

“Bel!”

Koltira’s arm bars the mage. “Stick to the plan.”

“But I can hear him!” Tears spill from her eyes.

“Don’t lose your head,” Grimory growls and throws aside corpses as they make their way through the hall. “We’re going as quickly as we can.”

Anarchaia helps by lifting other bodies and tossing them to the side as well. “It’s oddly quiet, other than the crying,” she mumbles, eyes searching overhead for the beast.

“Of course it’s quiet,” Koltira growls as he pulls the bodies away from the path, “everyone is in here.”

“He needs me!” Kel’ori insists. In a quick motion, she pushes the last of the corpses against the wall with her magic, then sprints through.

“The _plan!_ ” Koltira shouts.

A shrill cry sounds from above and Anarchaia grits her teeth as she blinks after the other mage, leaving little cinders in her wake. “ _Kel, we have to stick together!_ ”

Both Illidari men follow, glancing at one another as the dragonhawk makes more warning calls.

~ * ~

The blood knight locks her eyes across the table at the man enjoying the breakfast she’d cooked for them. She slips the fork behind her mask to take a bite of eggs. The utensil scrapes against her helm and she pauses, then returns it to the plate. “Your company means a lot to me…Grimory.” She says his name carefully, as though giving it some reverence.

The blond elf lifts his eyes, then gives an awkward, slightly nervous smile. “I…appreciate yours, too, blood knight lady.” He clears his throat. “What do you plan to do with the baby if he doesn’t come for it?”

She thinks on his question as she slips off one glove. An ugly scar mars the flesh on the back. She sets her hand over his, the callouses on her fingers and palm rough on his skin. She pauses and stares at their touching hands as though it’s a peculiar thing. “The…abomination…” Her brow furrows. “I’ll ask my employer what he wishes to do with it. Does… Does that suit you?”

Grimory swallows and stiffens some at the touch but does not show his discomfort otherwise. “Obviously I’d prefer not to harm it. I mean, abomination or not it’s still just a baby, yeah?” He struggles to read the green glow beneath her helmet. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Were it my child…” She scans his features, then casts her gaze to the table. “I would not.” She pulls her hand away and stands. “But it’s not mine. I will take it to m—” She goes quiet and stands completely still, listening. “Stay here,” she insists, holding out her hand. She grabs her glove and pulls it on as she races from the room.

Grimory watches her go, then immediately stands and goes to the door to watch her retreat down the hallway. He hesitates, for a moment wondering whether he should try to escape, but not knowing where he’d go if he did. Instead he sighs and returns to his seat.

The blood knight returns moments later, her brow furrowed and perplexed. “Stormbreaker must be playing with his food again. When he’s done, would you like to go for a ride? To get out of here for a bit. Fresh air. Maybe relax a little.” She gauges his facial expression, her brow pushing up in genuine sincerity. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grimory. Ever. I promise. You don’t have to keep your guard up. I was hoping we could be friends.” As she says this, her tone gives way to the smallest bit of vulnerability.

Grimory’s face softens at the hint of familiarity. He nods. “Yeah. Sure. I think I’d like that.” He flushes and looks away. “The ride, that is. The smell near the entranceway gets to me sometimes, yeah? I’m no stranger to slaughter, but…”

Her expression behind her mask is inscrutable, her brows relaxed. She stares at him for a long time, then laughs casually and shrugs a shoulder. “I can’t fool you, can I? I have…a secret. I’m a terrible housekeeper. I haven’t cleaned his roost in so long. I’m sure it’s just scraps from the wildlife he brings in. Dragonhawks are very territorial, so cleaning their nests has to be done carefully. It’s really just so tedious, though.” She takes his one hand in hers. “Forgive me?”

Grimory hesitantly wraps his fingers around hers, a mix of comfort and discomfort swirling in his stomach. He stares at her for a long beat. “Who are you?” he whispers.

Her hand goes to the hood of her crimson tunic. She unhooks it from the wings of her helm and pushes it back. Underneath, the blood knight’s hair is braided tight to the scalp on the sides, while the top is bound in a series of leather straps to keep it down. Resting on her shoulders with the braids are thick, black dreadlocks. She reaches to the buckle of her helm, pausing as though unsure. “Will it change your mind? Will you stay, then? With me? Or will you leave once you know…”

Grimory watches her intently. “Why? Have we met?” He furrows his brow and swallows. “A-are you…?”

The blood knight’s hand falls away. “She pulls the hood back over her hair and hooks it back into the helm. “Whoever you think I could be, I’m not.” Her demeanor shifts and she looks away from him. “I’m the one left to die. I was left bleeding and broken. No one came back for me.” The woman’s eyes lock onto his. “I wasn’t going to let that happen to you.”

“Look, I’m sorry for whatever’s happened to you, but I assure you I’m—” He pauses at the combination of crying and bestial shrieking, then looks at her. “He won’t eat him, will he?”

The blood knight listens. “That’s not…” She shoves to her feet and gets her spear from the corner. On her way out the door, she pauses to tilt his face up by the chin. “Stay with me and I’ll give you a name. Let me just get rid of our visitors.” She strides from the room.

Grimory purses his lips in her wake. _She’s actually kinda hot_.

~ * ~

Kel’ori races along the wall of the main botanical hall toward the sound of Bel’theas’s crying. A spear lodges into the wall in front of her and she screams and ducks. In moments, the blood knight is upon her. She pulls her up by her blonde locks, then presses her against the wall by the throat.

“I sure hope you brought the dragon with you.”

Kel’ori whimpers. “H-he doesn’t care. Please just let me have my baby— _ah!_ ” She cringes as the woman knocks her head back against the wall. “He’s not a dragon. He’s…a demon. Half.”

The blood knight steps back, her eyes wide. Her gaze wanders away as she processes the new information. “It’s not his?”

Koltira stops the others in the doorway. He motions around the side of the room for the Illidari. “Get the baby. I’ll get this bitch,” he mutters. Once the other men are out of the way, he yanks the blood knight back with a slithering, purple tendril of shadow.

She adjusts in midair and brings the metal toe of her boot up to meet his jaw just as she nears him. She hops backward and growls. “Oh, it’s a damned party, now, isn’t it? Sorry, Frosty, ’I’ve already got a dance partner.” She spins to kick him in the chest.

Kel’ori nods to Baemalen as she rips the spear out of the wall with her magic, then hurls it at the woman. It hits her thigh, just enough to pierce the armor, but not enough to reach bone. The woman screams out and tips away from the death knight.

Baemalen shakes his head. “No, Kel! Get Grim! I’ll get Bel!” He and Grimory nod to one another.

Anarchaia throws up a wall of ice between the blood knight and Koltira before she can regain her bearings. She throws more ice at her, hoping to distract her.

The woman lifts an arm to shield herself and grips the spear in her other hand. She shouts in pain and anger as she rips the tip from her thigh. She spins around the ice wall, sending the pole smacking hard against the mage’s shins. Koltira swings Byfrost down at the blood knight, but she rolls away and the blade clangs against the floor. Upon coming to her feet, she sees Kel’ori racing to the other doorway, where Grimory is waiting for her return.

“ _No!_ ” she shrieks. She raises her spear in the air and hurls it at the high elf.

Kel’ori glances over her shoulder in time to see the weapon flying at her. She spins to deflect it and trips, spilling out across the floor.

Weaponless, the knight retreats, picking up her spear as she runs, and pauses to kick Kel’ori in the stomach. Once out the other hallway, she whistles. Stormbreaker swoops low and she leaps onto his back, flying her to the kitchen using his shortcut through the rafters.

“Grimory. Grimory!” She stumbles from the dragonhawk, clutching her thigh. “We have to go. Now.”

Grimory nods and runs to her, taking her hand and leaping on.

Baemalen and his Grimory run through the halls, using the baby’s screaming as a waypoint. They eventually find themselves at the correct room, a lone cradle in the middle of a room with a grass floor and trees. The redhead steps forward, minding the thorn bushes, and gives a sigh of relief at the sight of the infant, uninjured.

Grimory meets him at his side and peers into the cradle. His face softens as he sees the baby up close for the first time. He gives a different sort of sigh and picks Bel’theas up.

The child immediately quiets as he’s lifted and opens his dark eyes. He coos happily and reaches for the Illidari’s ponytail.

“Huh. He likes you more than me. Kinda offended. Come on.” Baemalen chuckles and turns for the door, then stops and looks back. “Grim?”

“Yeah. Coming.”

Anarchaia hisses at the sting in her bruised shins as she scrambles back to her feet. She scoffs as the blood knight gets away. “Kel! Are you all right?!”

The blood knight struggles to get back onto the dragonhawk, the blood slicking her glove and her thigh wound opening at each movement.

Koltira leaps over the mages. “She’s getting away!”

“Go,” Kel’ori coughs, fighting her way to all fours. “I’ll be right behind you.”

With the man’s help, the blood knight gets onto Stormbreaker. With no real choice, she stabs into a plant pot, tangling her spear in the roots of the small tree. She hoists it up and holds it out for the Illidari. “You got a good throwing arm?” She points at the glass paneled ceiling.

“Sure do,” the elf says, taking the weapon. He hesitates. “Are you going to be all right?” He makes to say more, but the spear is torn from his grasp and into the hands of a mage clad in blue and white in the doorway.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Anarchaia says. “Koltira, we have to get rid of the dragonhawk.”

The blood knight growls and kicks at Stormbreaker’s side. “Duck. Prepare to get cut.”

The dragonhawk shoots upward toward the window. As it gets there, Koltira reaches out with a shadowy gasp and drags the Illidari back down. The window shatters at the impact of the creature’s beak, raining glass down onto them.

On instinct, Koltira forces Grimory to hunch as he covers the less-armored man with his own body. “Ana, shield!”

Anarchaia throws up a dome of arcane energies, protecting them from the shards. She looks up at the struggling Grimory and frowns. “I’m so sorry, Grim. But we’re trying to protect you.”

Kel’ori stumbles into the entryway, standing back as the glass falls around the others. She holds her ribs and coughs again.

“I don’t even know you people!” he hisses. “And she was just going to let me starve!” He gestures to Kel’ori as he struggles against Koltira’s strength.

“I _gave_ you food,” Kel’ori rasps. “You were the one throwing it back at me.”

Koltira looks up as the shards stop falling. He sees nothing but an empty pane. “ _Dammit!_ She got away.” He lets Grimory go, his teeth grit tightly together. “Who is she?” he demands. “Where is she going? What does she want?”

Kel’ori laughs, which falls into more coughing. “He won’t know anything. Did you see how fast she abandoned him?” Her eyes settle on the Illidari. “We won’t abandon you. Believe it or not, we’re all on the same side.”

Grimory growls and steps away from the death knight. “It doesn’t matter. And like I’d tell you anything, anyway. At least she showed some hospitality and didn’t—oh, I don’t know— _chain me up in a basement?_ ”

Anarchaia perks at the sound of footsteps and runs to the doorway after dropping the barrier. “No, you guys. Not in here.” She looks at Kel’ori. “Can you send them back? I can handle the other…one.”

A shriek sounds from the other side of the room as Stormbreaker charges back in through one of his rafter paths. The blood knight leaps from his back as he swirls to a stop, batting the death knight into the wall. Byfrost clangs across the floor.

“You think you can take him from me so easily?” The knight leaps at the mage, her polearm swinging over her head.

Anarchaia’s pink eyes widen and she gives a small cry as the spear crashes through her quickly raised barrier, weak from the continuous use. She grabs the spear and struggles with what little muscle she has instead. “Kel! Take one before we lose our chance!”

In the corridor, Grimory grits his teeth and holds the baby to his shoulder, wanting to help but knowing he can’t see himself.

“We’ll be in the main chamber!” Baemalen calls and grabs Grimory to turn him back.

The Grimory in the solar perks at the voice. “Bae?” He tries to inch his way to the doorway, but his feet freeze to the floor. He pulls at them uselessly.

“Kel, take him!” Koltira points at the man in front of them.

“Grimory, the sword,” the blood knight insists as she grapples shortly with the mage.

Kel’ori stumbles forward to grab at Grimory before he can get a hold of Byfrost.

Grimory growls as he uses all his strength to break free from the ice. He stumbles to the sword and grabs it before the death knight or Kel’ori can recover. The handle remains dull and he struggles to pick it up. “Why is it so heavy?!” he calls to the blood knight. He musters all his strength to lift it and runs forward to deliver it, but a shadowy tendril wraps around his ankle and he falls forward. The weapon spins across the floor to the wrestling duo.

The blood knight reaches for the blade, but Anarchaia cries “No!” and uses her distraction to kick her off. Instead she scoops up the sword with little hesitation. An invisible gust swirls around her form as the handle shifts to a bright violet and a similar color fills her eyes. She straightens, struggling to contain the power coursing through her.

The blood knight’s eyes widen on the mage. She takes a step back, readying her spear.

“Kel!” Koltira shouts.

Kel’ori rushes from the hallway, wrapping her arms around the Illidari. He struggles against her.

“Grimory!” the knight shouts, turning her attention on the elves long enough to miss the massive ball of fire flying at her. The flames smash into her torso and launch her backward across the room and into the wall. She falls to the floor, her clothes still aflame.

Kel’ori closes her eyes to concentrate and in a second the two are back in the basement of the hut.

Grimory blinks and stops struggling as soon as he realizes where he is. He wrenches free from the mage’s grasp and turns on her. “No! Take me back! She’s hurt!”

Kel’ori stumbles back, her breathing forced and painful. “With any luck she’s dead. Do you have any idea what kind of monster you were in bed with?” She leans against the wall, her arm across her ribs and her brow knit in agony.

“Do _you?_ ” Grimory sighs as conflicting emotions run through him. “Are you hurt? Maybe I can help…”

Kel’ori holds out her hand to stop him as she coughs on her breath. “Your _friend_ kicked me while I was already down. Literally.” She takes a few calculated breaths. “She killed everyone, Grim. She’s a monster. How dare you aid her in taking my son. _Don’t_ touch me.” She uses her magic to push the cellar door open, then stumbles up the stairs. “You’re welcome for the rescue.” She doesn’t stop to shackle him but does close the door as she makes her way to the front door.

Grimory rushes to the stairs, but his strength isn’t enough to open the doors. “Yeah, and you’re _WELCOME FOR OFFERING TO HELP!_ ”


	24. Chapter 23

Anarchaia turns and holds out the sword to Koltira, tears welling in an eye from the feeling of being overwhelmed. “Take it!” she yells in an unintentional volume.

Grimory and Baemalen appear in the doorway. “I know I’m not supposed to come in, but we heard—” The blond pauses at the burning woman on the ground and the mage swirling with power. “Oh, right on.”

Koltira takes the sword. He turns and stomps toward the burning woman. “Let’s make sure she stays down.”

Stormbreaker swoops down, batting the death knight away with his tail. He shrieks and places himself between the blood knight and the others, slowly advancing, clacking his sharp beak together.

Koltira scrambles to his feet and puts himself between the creature and the others, checking over his shoulder that Grimory has the infant safely in his arms. “I think it’s time to go.” He casts one final glare to the woman across the room, who still hasn’t moved, though the fire has been extinguished by the dragonhawk’s winds. “Ana, please.” He reaches his hand back for her to take, but otherwise stands his ground.

Anarchaia, veins still humming with energy, nods and takes his hand. She turns and holds her other out for the Illidari. When they’ve all linked, they disappear in a swirl of light. When they appear again, they are standing in the middle of the main room of the outpost. Bel’theas gives a small whimper, not accustomed to the feeling of teleporting.

Grimory sets a hand on the back of his head and looks around. “Where’s Kel’ori?”

“Still downstairs?” Koltira asks.

Baemalen rushes to the door when Kel’ori appears. He grabs her when she stumbles. “Kel! Are you all right? What’s wrong with your side?”

Anarchaia cringes. “She got kicked pretty hard…”

“I’m fine,” Kel’ori insists, looking anything but. “Bel.” She reaches for the baby and takes him as the demon hunter hands him over. “My poor boy. Did she even change you?” She casts her gaze to Grimory. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

A slight flush tints Grimory’s cheeks and he forces himself to look away from the child. “It’s fine. Just…hold onto him, yeah?” _It’s a fine specimen, isn’t it?_ The demon hunter grits his teeth as he turns for the door. “Shut up.”

“Where’s Grim?” Koltira asks. “Other Grim.”

“Downstairs. I didn’t shackle him. He might be gone. I don’t care anymore. I just want to go home.” She sinks into a chair and holds Bel’theas close, though the infant’s attention is divided between her hair and Grimory.

Anarchaia fidgets at the clear turmoil and frowns at Kel’ori. “Are you sure you’re fine? We can help while we’re here.”

“I think you’ve done enough,” Baemalen says with a kind smile. “I can take care of them.”

Koltira doesn’t move. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

The mage waves her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just sore.” She pulls her hair from Bel’theas’s mouth. “Really, go y— _AH!_ ” Her scream causes the infant to lean back and start crying as little spots of blood absorb into her dress around several, tiny, fang-size holes in the fabric. Tears of pain and embarrassment fill her eyes and she looks away from the others. “Go. I’m fine,” she says forcefully. “I need to feed my son.”

Anarchaia pulls the death knight from the room and the wailing. She sighs heavily as they step into the cool night air. “You okay?” she says to the demon hunter standing alone some feet away.

“Fine. Why?”

“Well…you weren’t too excited about the baby. But he seemed to really like—”

“Can you just teleport us back please?”

She frowns and nods, holding out her hand for him to take. The three disappear and reappear back in the cave.

Jorick smiles after jumping in surprise, nearly dropping his cards. “You’re back in one piece,” he says with a smile.

Taveth gives a relieved groan as the succubus shoots to her hooves.

<<The baby! How is he?>>

Taveth motions at her. “She’s been beside herself—and us—with worry. I’ve also been concerned. How is my sister and my nephew? And Grim…of course.” He cocks his eyebrow at the man. “You went?”

“Yes, I went,” Grimory snaps.

Koltira clenches his jaw. “Hopefully that blood knight won’t be bothering us anymore. Also, she’s a mass murderer and I would love to take that bitch’s head off. Which we would have done if some bumbling Illidari didn’t take off with my sword.” He purses his lips at Grimory. “I like the current you a lot more than the past you. How could you defend… _that?_ ”

He gives Koltira a sideways glance, then sobers some. “She was…nice to me. Romantic, even.” He shakes his head and turns. “Baby’s fine. I have to get back to the temple.”

Taveth furrows his brow up at the demon hunter. “Why you?”

“No idea,” Grimory says before he disappears out into the night.

Anarchaia stokes their dying fire and kneels beside it, suddenly drained. She yawns. “Did you two have fun?”

“Oodles,” Jorick says with a smirk.

Taveth purses his lips. “Sorry, but…why Grim?”

Koltira scoffs from the corner where he’s removing his armor. “Because it’s always Grim. Everywhere he goes, women fall at his feet.”

“Jealous?” he jokes.

“No. Are you?”

Taveth narrows his eyes but says nothing.

Jorick casually raises a hand. “I am.”

Anarchaia chuckles. “I think we’ve discussed Grim’s way with women before. They like assholes, remember?” She holds her hands up to the fire.

Taveth slides over to the mage and leans to wrap her in a hug. “I’m glad you’re back safe.” He freezes, eyes wide. “What is that smell? Oh, gods, Ana, your boots!”

“We got to wade through what’s left of the hundred or so elves stationed at the Botanica. It was a massacre. And it was several days old, maybe a week," Koltira explains".

Anarchaia blinks, then laughs. “Oh, I guess I forgot.” She sits back on her hind end and slips off the garments to run her orb of water over them. The thought of drying them, however, is too exhausting to her and she sets them near the fire instead. “It was gross.” She shudders. “So many bodies. I should have burned them all.”

Taveth shudders. “And you said she got away?”

“Nope. Ana took her out with the most impressive fireball I’ve ever seen. She was amazing.” Koltira smiles over at the woman.

“I would have vomited.”

“Kel did throw up,” Anarchaia chuckles, then gives Koltira a shy smile. “I’d not be able to do that without some help from Byfrost.”

“Who’s Byfrost?” Jorick asks as he oddly shuffles the cards in his hands.

Koltira meets Anarchaia’s gaze, a sly smirk spreading on his lips. “An enchanted sword that was passed down through Alisbeth’s family, until I got it.” He holds out the blue handle to the man. “Give it a try.”

Taveth sits up to watch.

Jorick stands and dusts his palms on his pant legs. He crosses the cave and takes the handle. It dulls and the blade end drops to the floor as he struggles to lift it. He grunts and tries with both hands. “What is this thing made of? _Dying star??_ ”

Anarchaia titters into a hand. “I guess you aren’t worthy,” she sings mockingly.

“Well I could have told you that,” he grumbles.

Taveth laughs. “I’m not worthy, either.”

“Apparently neither is Grim.” The death knight takes the sword back to lean it against the wall. “Ana’s the only magic-user I’ve seen wield it.”

“What was it like?” Taveth asks excitedly, opening his journal to a clean page.

Anarchaia fidgets, her smile gone. “It’s…a lot of power. I don’t like it. It’s nothing compared to Atiesh, but it’s like…wanting to scream after having ten cups of coffee. If that makes any sense?”

“Oh, so much energy you might vibrate out of your skin? I’ve done that. Not the vibrating part, the coffee part. Heh.” Taveth makes a few notes in his book.

“Ana, would you mind dousing my gear in water?” Koltira motions at the pile covered in putrid blood.

“Oh! Yes. Sorry.” She surrounds the soiled armor with a mass of water, then stifles another yawn. “Ugh, speaking of coffee…”

“I think we could all go for something other than stale water and dried meat at this point,” Jorick says, groaning as he sits near the fire.

Taveth makes a face. “I’m really tired of this cave.”

~ * ~

Baemalen gives the two a patient grin. “What can I do for you? And don’t say you’re fine.”

Kel’ori summons her papoose but flinches and gives up when it’s too difficult to lift it over her head. Doing her best to not flash the bashful man, she undoes her bodice and sets the infant to the side he hadn’t bitten into. She rests him on the table to get the weight off her sore ribs.

“Um, if you don’t mind, he needs a new nappie and something to wear? I’ll draw him a bath after he eats. Unless you really feel like heating the water over the fire…the long way.” She presses her lips together, upset that her pain is impeding just how relieved and happy she is to have Bel’theas safely back. She sniffs and sets her palm to the back of his head as she holds him. “I’m never letting him go again,” she says.

Baemalen gives her a tired sigh, though his smile remains. “Yes. I can do all of those things. And after that, we’re taking care of _you_ , understand?” He points, then leaves. He comes back after starting a fire under their bath trough and retrieving the items. “Hand him here.”

Kel’ori covers herself as Bel’theas finishes. She gives him a quick burping, then holds the infant up. “I’m really fine, Bae. I’m just sore.”

Bel’theas immediately grabs the red locks hanging over the man’s shoulders and grunts excitedly at him.

The mage smiles. “I think he missed you.”

“I don’t know,” Baemalen says as he gets to changing the baby. “He seemed to really love Grim. I mean, that makes sense because…well. Because. But you should have seen it. He was screaming bloody murder, but when Grim picked him up he just…stopped. Didn’t have to sing or anything. Just fell asleep.” He changes his clothes as well, scrutinizing her from the corner of his eye.

A chill runs up Kel’ori’s spine. She sneers at the fireplace. “Spinewing.” Her fist on the table balls tight. “I’ll have to keep them apart.” She stands to go check the heat of the water, bracing one hand on the wall.

Baemalen stands when he’s finished and scowls. He goes to her. “All right, missy. You’re definitely not okay. Show me.”

The mage pauses. “Show you what?”

“Where you were kicked.”

Kel’ori slowly reaches for the buttons of her bodice. With shaking fingers, she starts to undo them. “I’m sure it’s just a bruise.” She sets a palm to the area the hurts, unable to see it past her bust. “Right here.”

Baemalen’s eyes widen at the gnarly yellow and purple bruise. “Kel, there’s no way you don’t have broken bones. You need to lie down.” He points back to the hammock. “I’ll get ointment and bandages.”

The high elf’s eyes go wide. “What? What do you mean?” She tries to see the bruise, but only sees the black fabric of her brazier. “But Bel needs a bath, and I have to make dinner. And take it to Grim, if he’s still down there. Speaking of which.” She waves her hand and a tool from outside slips itself through the handle of the cellar door and through a bar intended for chaining the door.

“I don’t care. Hammock.” Baemalen points again, then retrieves the items while Bel’theas babbles on the floor. He returns, unscrewing the cap off some salve. “Sorry, but…” He gestures to her brassiere.

The woman slaps her arms over her chest. “You can work around it,” she hisses.

Baemalen bristles, face as red as his hair. “I-I’m not trying to see your chest or anything! The bruise goes underneath your underwear!”

She huffs and gingerly lifts her garment up to expose the bottom of her breast, holding it in place. “Is that better?”

Baemalen cringes again at the sight. “You’re holding up well for an injury like that,” he says and gently places a bit of ointment on the bruise.

The mage bites her upper lip in her canines as goosebumps raise all over her body. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve had worse?”

“Right. I imagine that would be much worse than a few broken ribs.” He unwinds the bandage and gestures for her to lean forward, then begins wrapping it around her torso and over the bruise.

Kel’ori braces herself with a hand on his shoulder and hisses as he binds her ribs tightly. “I don’t think it’s a good story to share,” she says on an awkward laugh.

Baemalen regards her with a patient smile. “I wasn’t asking. And I never will. I know it can be hard and it’s no one’s business but yours in the end.” He straightens and rerolls what’s left of the gauze.

She purses her lips, biting back the temptation to remind him that he has no idea what he’s talking about. “I’d rather not stay in bed,” she says instead as she straightens her clothing and buttons her bodice. “There’s too much to be done.”

He sighs and nods. “I mean, I can’t make you do anything. Just ask you to take it easy…” He bends to pick up the baby.

The mage gets a light stew going over the fire, using magic for most of it as she sits in the large chair. “Will you help me feed Grim tonight? I’m…scared. He knows I’m injured, and he came at me when I brought us back. He wanted to go back and save that _woman_.”

Baemalen thinks on it for a moment, then clears his throat when his stomach growls. “Not sure how I’d bring him anything without him recognizing me. Oh, wait, you mages can do illusions, right? Can you do them on others?”

She pauses, thinking on it. “I’ve never actually tried. Who do you want to look like?”

Baemalen shrugs a shoulder after a second’s thought. “Who do _you_ want me to look like?” he responds with a smirk.

She smiles coyly. “Maybe I don’t have a problem with how you look. But, as a test…” She waves her hand in front of him, a look of concentration on her face. “Oh, now if that isn’t the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen.” She winks at the image of herself.

Baemalen blinks down at himself, then grins and grabs at the breasts now bound to his chest. “Couldn’t agree more. Oh, face. You said face.” He returns the wink.

Kel’ori rolls her eyes. “Closest you’ll ever get to the real thing.” She points up at him, trying not laugh with her injured ribs.

He chuckles and grabs his new robes at the knee. “Or maybe I just check to see if the set is complete, hmm?” He slowly begins lifting the fabric.

Kel’ori waves her hands urgently, dissolving the illusion. “If I’d know you would be so pervy about it—!” She groans and forces herself out of the chair, then uses her magic to serve up three bowls of stew. After everything sets itself neatly on the tray for the man in the basement, she takes a deep breath, grimacing through it. “I’ll just do it myself.”

Baemalen laughs and takes that tray out of her hands. “I’m just messing with you. I like when your face matches my hair. Give me back the illusion and get into bed, okay?”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean by that. But, fine. Be careful what you say to him, all right?” She waves her hand and returns the illusion to the man. “Let me know when you’re back. Illusions are a small, but constant drain. If I don’t dispel it, it’ll stay until I pass out. Or…other things. There’s a list.” She waves the discussion away. “Be careful. Shackle him if you need to—you still have your own strength, of course.”

Baemalen nods and heads out the door. “I’ll be back in a flash!” He hurries to the cellar doors, setting aside the tray to pull the shovel free and open them. He closes the doors behind him, then chuckles as he sees Grimory’s sleeping figure curled up in the corner nearest the burning furnace. He sets the tray down near him and leaves, returning to the house after the shovel has been replaced. “He was asleep,” he says after the illusion falls away. “Couldn’t bring myself to chain him up.”

“Didn’t want to cuddle your bestie?” the mage asks.

“He’s not much if a cuddler, unless your name is Illith’ra,” he chuckles. “And even then…” He sighs and sets himself into his unofficial hammock. “Today has been…stressful.”

“Or Alisbeth.” Kel’ori looks over at the sleeping infant in the crib and sighs. “We didn’t eat. It’s probably cooled enough. Come on.” She fights the hammock but fails to climb out as her ribs twinge. “I’d kill for a bed,” she mutters up at the ceiling.

He gives her a sad smile. “No, don’t get up.” He steps around the sleeping baby and prepares two bowls. He hands her hers and sits cross legged on the floor beside her hammock. A hum of satisfaction escapes him at the flavor.

“Thank you,” the mage says, then sits up as best she can to eat. Once she’s had her fill, she sends the dish back to the main room. “I really wish Docra had come with. She tells the best jokes. I mean, they’re weird, but in a way they’re super funny. Most importantly, though, she’s a priestess. She hates healing, but I think she’d take care of my ribs.” She giggles at a thought. “She’d also probably set up the dungeon as her bedroom.”

Baemalen angles his ears back so he can hear her while he stares into the fire on the other side of the room. “Oh? Is she your best friend? Tell me more about her.”

“She’s…my only friend, now. Maybe. I don’t think she likes having friends, though.” Kel’ori chews on a nail. “She convinced me not to terminate… And I’m so glad. I mean, she said it because she was curious. Some odd thing to explore. What about your sister? Was she your best friend?”

He sighs wistfully and nods. “I knew some guys. But they were just little rascals like me. Partners in crime, really. What about that other mage girl? Isn’t she your friend? She did come to help…”

Kel’ori shrugs. “I guess? I mean, she pressured me to get rid of Bel. Everyone did. She probably only helped because Grim was gone. If that woman had only taken Bel…” She turns to look at the sleeping infant and bites her bottom lip. Again she struggles to sit up. “I’m restless. This is the worst. I can’t just lay here when I’m not tired!” She uses her magic to pull herself up, then hops gingerly to her feet. “Would you like to…do something? I don’t know. Cards? Could play cards?”

The redhead blinks at the suddenness, then shrugs. “If you can keep up with my cheating,” he responds with a shrug. “Play for shots?” He gestures to the half empty bottle beneath his hammock.

The mage stares ruefully at the bottle. “Unfortunately, I can’t. Not until he’s eating something else.” She summons a small glass bottle and pops the cork. “Ha. I knew I saw this at the vendor.” She goes to the living area and summons water into a cup, then pours some of the red liquid into it. “It’s liquor flavoring for those fruity drinks. This one happens to be concentrated daiquiri. Just add alcohol—or water, in my case.” She sits down and sets the cards on the table and they raise up to shuffle themselves. “Oh, and cheating will be met with severe punishment.”

Baemalen smirks and sets himself at the table with the bottle. “You’d have to catch me first, obviously.” He takes up his hand.

Kel’ori casually waves her fingers, her face stony. The elf, and his chair, lift off the floor. “Oh look, I caught you.”

Baemalen flails and hops to his feet and away from the floating chair, then breaks down in chuckles. “Oh, that’s funny.” He forces the chair back down and sits again. “You’re a funny girl. Hopefully you play Hold ‘Em as well as you tell jokes.” He deals the board and narrows his eyes over his grin.

Kel’ori pouts. “I’m not that good. You’ll go easy on an innocent girl, right?” She maintains her face, internally jumping at her hand.

“I suppose I can be convinced,” he says and pulls out his coins. “These are pretty much both of ours right now, but can’t hurt to pretend.” He splits the amount in half and gives her hers, then tosses in a piece.

Kel’ori puts a piece in with his. “I suppose you’re right. We can. How easy is it to convince you of things? Do I just need to bat my eyelashes at you?”

Baemalen lifts a brow and flips the second card then puts in another piece. “I know I look gullible, but I know every trick in the book, sweetie. It’ll take more than a sultry gaze to pierce my poker face.”

“Oh, really? All talk but when being pretty really matters, you go blind?” The buttons down the front of her dress slowly pop open one by one, making the remaining ones work harder to keep her breasts in place. She takes a drink as though she hadn’t noticed the event. “I raise.” She flicks two pieces into the middle of the table.

He keeps his eyes trained on her face. “You know, that’s really not fair. What am I supposed to flash you? I have no cleavage.” He tosses in another piece. “I call. Let’s see what you have.”

Another button undoes itself. “I think you can see what I’ve got just fine.” She pretends to scratch her collar bone, pulling the neckline wider and accidentally revealing part of the row of scars from the demon’s teeth. “Oh, did you mean cards?” She sets down a queen and a king.

His eyes briefly flick to the scars, then down at her cards. “Oh, darn.” He sets down a two-three suited. “You win.” He pushes the coins toward her and takes a hefty swig from the bottle.

After several hands with the gold shifting near evenly between the two—both resorting to less than savory means of winning, Kel’ori leans back and rubs her eyes, leaving her recent winnings on the table. “I’m absolutely worn out. I can’t play another round.” Her hand mirror quietly slips from behind the man’s shoulder and back into her crate of makeup. “Not sleepy, though.” She purses her lips.

Baemalen, visibly tipsy, smiles and nods. “I’m a tad tired, but I won’t leave you up alone.” He slides from his chair and onto the floor where he crawls over to the still sleeping Bel’theas and collapses into his stomach beside him, in front of the fire. He pushes his cheek into the tiger fur and blinks slowly at the sleeping infant. “Must be nice to have no worries, like you.”

Kel’ori smiles from the chair. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I can’t imagine you’ve too much on your mind, now that you’ve defected.”

His brow knits some and he looks up at the fire as though avoiding looking at her. “Quite the opposite, actually. At least training and fear kept my brain busy…”

“Busy from what? Being attractive too hard for you?” she jokes.

He smirks and turns to look back at her. “You think I’m attractive?” he asks in hopes of catching her off guard.

Kel’ori blinks down at him. “Are you seeking validation?”

He rolls into his back and laces his fingers over his stomach. “Maybe? Is that a bad thing?”

She shrugs. “Only if you stroke my ego in return.” She chews on her lower lip an smirks. “Yes. I’d say you’re attractive.”

The Illidari blushes but grins as though he’s unfazed. “Well. Your face is lovelier than your bust line if that means anything to you.”

Kel’ori gives a small titter into her fingertips, then sighs and just stares at her baby.

Baemalen stares at the ceiling for a long moment, watching it slowly spin. The image of the teeth marks near her neck suddenly comes to his mind. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but if you ever need someone to talk to…”

Kel’ori giggles. “About what? How hard it is being as attractive as we are? Really, it’s so difficult. Every day is a battle.” She smirks down at him.

“No. About what happened.”

The mage purses her lips at him. “Bae… It’s sweet and all but… You don’t want to hear any of it. And it’s just hard talking to people about it, knowing they don’t actually know how it feels. You can’t imagine or even sympathize with someone unless you’ve been through something similar.” She shakes her head and adjusts in her seat. “But thank you.”

He knits his brow at the rafters above, his smile gone. “…I _do_ know how it feels.”

“You sister’s pain does not count as _knowing_ ,” Kel’ori snaps. “Just…leave it.” Her chin trembles, but she doesn’t cry.

He groans and covers his face. “Not my sister.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

Baemalen shakes his head, face still behind his palms. “To _protect_ my sister…”

Kel’ori blinks in confusion. “What? I don’t understand.”

He groans again and lets his hands fall to the floor on either side of himself, but still avoids looking at her. “I had to. If I didn’t let them…they’d have gone after her instead.”

Kel’ori sits up a bit. “Bae, if you don’t explain what you mean…” She leaves the threat open as anger fills her, even though she’s unsure she has the story straight.

His face softens to a small frown. He takes in a shaky breath. “I was raped. Nearly nightly. By whomever was working that night.” His frown turns into a pensive scowl. “The only times I wasn’t was my birthday or when they were too drunk to remember about me.”

Kel’ori shoots to her feet, crying out at the pain in her ribs. She turns and wordlessly walks into the other room.

Baemalen sits up. “W-wait, where are you going?” He stumbles to his feet and follows. “Kel?”

The mage sinks to her knees in a dark corner and silently cries. “Bae…”

He swallows, panic welling in his chest as he keeps his distance. “L-look, if it’s something I said, I-I’m sorry.”

She sniffles and pushes back to her feet. “Bae, I…” This time, without a warning, she goes to him. She approaches slowly. “I’m so…ashamed,” she says. She wipes her cheeks, but more tears swiftly replace the first. She takes a final step and wraps her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. I…didn’t even think…” She holds him tighter

He stiffens some at the embrace, but soon relaxes and gives a half smile. He lifts his hands to return the hug. “It’s fine. Really.” A quiet, uncomfortable chuckle escapes him. “I…haven’t told many people…” A tear drops down his cheek. “Just you. And him.” He gestures to the cellar below.

“What I wouldn’t give for less people to know.” She shakes her head and sniffles. “You’re a good man, Bae. I hope you know how extraordinary that makes you. Your sister probably remembers you as a hero.”

He shakes his head. “She never knew. I never could tell her. A little girl doesn’t need to know about that stuff.” He sniffles as well, then turns away, surprised at his crying. “S-sorry. Heh.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “If I’m allowed to cry about it, then so are you.”

“Yeah, but men aren’t supposed to cry.”

“My father always said men are allowed to cry if it helps. So…if it helps, you can cry in front of me.” She pulls her head back, her blue eyes locking onto his green ones. Kel’ori reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek. “I know I’m not the nicest person, but I promise I won’t judge you for it. You’re probably the only person who genuinely likes me, why would I ruin that?” She gives him a wry smile and sniffs.

He smirks through his tears and chuckles. “But I thought this Docra person was your only friend.”

“I’m her friend. She isn’t my friend. Entirely. I don’t know. She’s odd. She says she’s not my friend, but she puts up with me visiting and staying with her. But then she turns around and complains that I’m in her hair all the time.” Kel’ori shakes her head in bewilderment. “I don’t think she truly _likes_ anyone. I think she’s just is okay with occasional company from specific people.”

Baemalen blinks. “All right, then let me rephrase.” He clears his throat dramatically. “But I thought you had _no_ friends.”

She smiles and shrugs, wiping her tears away. “Do you want to be my friend?”

He laughs quietly. “Well we’re crying in each other’s arms. I really don’t think we have a choice at this point.”

Kel’ori giggles, smiling up at him. “I’m okay with that.”

He returns the smile, the tips of his ears growing warm. “Me, too.”


	25. Chapter 24

Illith’ra sighs as she watches the other recruits practice. She wipes sweat from her brow and looks through the sea of faces but sees no sign of the one she’s looking for. “Where did you go…?”

Asheeda enters the training room, one fist balled as the other’s fingers are woven with another woman’s. Her lips are pursed tight and her face is set in anticipation.

“I’m really, _really_ not a fighter.”

The woman behind the veil gives a small giggle. “Nonsense! Everyone can fight.”

“I don’t really like to,” Asheeda hisses. “Why do you think I spend all day in my lab? If I’m too busy to fight, then I don’t _have_ to fight!”

Illith’ra perks and meets the two at the door. “Ash! _You_ haven’t seen Grim anywhere have you? He was supposed to meet me here an hour ago for training. Who is this?”

“Oh, this is—Ow! Stop squishing my hand!” she pries her fingers away. “Why are you so strong?”

“My name is…Diori,” Alisbeth replies carefully.

“She’s a new recruit. Just came in last week.”

Illith’ra smiles and holds out a hand. “Hi, Diori. Welcome to the madhouse. If you need any help, my name’s Illith’ra, but everyone just calls me Illie.”

Alisbeth takes the woman’s hand. “Hi Izayami! So, Grim is missing? That’s a shame. Probably. Hey, who’s that?” She points out a night elf man as he walks in the door. “I wanna fight him.”

Asheeda’s eyelids lower. “You want to fight everyone.”

“I do. I really do.”

Eldon narrows his eyes behind his blindfold and down at her. “I’m here to babysit. Not to fight. Get yourself a partner, recruit, or I’ll choose one for you.”

“Donnie!” Illith’ra looks up at him. “You haven’t seen Grim, have you?”

“Mm. No. Not since yesterday.”

“He didn’t come back last night.”

“I’m aware. We all share a room,” he says, mildly annoyed.

“I know,” Illith’ra whines. “I’m just worried.”

Alisbeth points behind the elf. “That elf, not you. But I’ll fight you.”

“You should stick to someone your own size,” Asheeda hisses.

“But I wanna kill him.”

“You mean beat him.”

Alisbeth shrugs. “Same thing?”

The man behind Eldon blinks, then gives a nervous titter. “Oh, it wouldn’t be much of a fight. I’ve barely trained. Heh.”

Illith’ra looks around the massive demon hunter at him. “Well you aren’t going to fix that being out there, y’know.”

He shakes his green ponytail and chuckles again, stepping onto the mezzanine. “I suppose you’re right.”

Alisbeth purses her lips tightly together behind the veil. “Untrained? Hmm… Say, what did you say your name was?”

“Thoren,” he says with a smile. “And yes. I’ve only been here for a week or so. What can I call you?” He holds out a weathered hand.

“I’m Diori!” Alisbeth says. Again she slides her gaze to a nearby group containing faces she knows from her past. _They can’t know it’s me. I’m supposed to be at the keep._ The familiar voice chuckles darkly, enjoying the new path they’ve started on. “This is Ashvain.”

Asheeda makes a face. “What is it with you and giving me random nicknames?” She laughs and wraps her arm over the death knight’s shoulders, anyway. “I’m Asheeda. I’m the lead alchemist around here.” She leans to Alisbeth’s ear. “Do you need a coat? You’re freezing.”

“Am I? Ha! I don’t feel a thing.”

“You really need to be more careful with medical conditions like this. Don’t worry, I’ll get you under the covers later.” She gives a sly grin as the death knight nods eagerly.

Alisbeth’s eyes slide back to the night elf with the green hair. _I’ve seen you. Nighttime doesn’t hide secrets from those who don’t sleep. **Snap his neck. Drain his blood.** Take his head. **Yes.**_ “I’d like to—”

“Why don’t you spar with Illie?” Asheeda suggests. “With your military training, I’m sure she’d be more your level than Thoren.”

Alisbeth’s face contorts behind her mask and she gnashes her teeth. “But I want to ki— fight… _that_ guy.”

Thoren gives another nervous chuckle. “Again, it wouldn’t be much of a fight…”

Illith’ra smiles brightly. “Let’s give the newbie a break, hm? I’d love to see what you can do. …despite your obvious bloodlust.”

“Bloodlust? Me? No. Just…eager for real battle.” Alisbeth takes the woman by the arm and to a clear area. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” She stands opposite her and readies herself, hands up and completely motionless as she holds her breath and studies the woman’s build.

Illith’ra gives a determined smile and lifts her bound fists. “You ready?” When the other woman nods, she lunges forward and ducks to aim a punch at Alisbeth’s core.

Alisbeth waits until the last moment and shifts just enough for the woman to miss, bringing down her elbow at Illith’ra’s spine; The Illidari yelps as her face hits the stone floor. She recovers quickly, however, using her arms to twist her waist and bring a kick toward Alisbeth’s ankles.

The death knight notices the motion before the kick nears her. She leaps in the air over the woman, again crooking her elbow to bring it down with the force of her weight onto the Illidari.

Illith’ra grunts as she catches the attack out of the corner of her eye. She rolls away and again uses the momentum to spin herself, her heel this time aimed for the woman’s head.

Alisbeth takes the kick straight to her jaw. It knocks her veil off and causes her to bite into her cheek as she slides across the floor.

By this time the pairs sparring have already stopped and are watching. But as the death knight springs to her feet and throws back her black hair, the group at the other end of the room turns to look at her.

“Captain,” one says in shock.

“Captain Redblade!” a woman cheers, clapping over her head.

A man balls his fist. “Show her how hard a blood knight is to take down, Alisbeth!”

Hearing their voices, she pauses. Thoughts and memories and ideas and orders all rush through her head. She claws at the side of her head, doubling over and covering her ears as she tries to focus on what she’s even doing there. _Something about the timeline. **Fuck the timeline.**_ Her eyes snap open and she straightens, a sneer forming down at the woman staring at her from the floor. Alisbeth leaps forward to grab her by the ankle to spin her and toss her effortlessly across the room.

Illith’ra and the numerous people she’s thrown into all collectively groan as they sit up. She _eep_ s and dodges out of the way when Alisbeth rushes to grab her. “Blood knight?” she says as she dodges another punch. She grunts as she’s struck in the chest and sent sprawling, then leaps to her feet and attempts to return the blow. “I thought you were a recruit!”

Alisbeth slips sideways to easily avoid the blow, then turns and stands as though posing for presentation. “Kael’thas sent his strongest as well as those he felt fit to serve Lord Illidan. What were you before you got here, hmm? A sniveling worm, like you are now?” She hisses the cruel words, spurred on by her cheering compatriots. “I will prove my worth. I will claim my place here as I did at the Keep.” She throws her fist in the air and gives a manic grin. “You will never forget the name _Captain_ Alisbeth Redblade!” She reaches to snatch the hair on the woman’s scalp with one hand and readies a punch aimed at Illith’ra’s nose with the other.

Before the punch can land Alisbeth is thrown sideways and away from the woman. Grimory stands, fists clenched and glowering. “ _What are you doing?!_ ”

Alisbeth rolls across the floor, then stands defiantly, her back straight and her nose in the air. “Sparring. Now, if you’d clear the floor.” She motions for him to move.

Asheeda huddles down, hiding her face behind her fists. “Eldon, didn’t she say her name was Diori? She said her name was Diori. Potions? I should get… Should I get potions?” But she doesn’t move, unable to look away from the scene.

Grimory stands his ground. “You know damn well that’s not what you’re doing. You’d have broken her nose if I’d have let you!”

Eldon grumbles and helps Illith’ra back to her feet. “Maybe you should. The mezzanine is no place for an alchemist.”

Alisbeth’s smile comes forced as her eyes fill with fury. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings, somehow?” She rips the woman away from the night elf and holds her tightly, her fingers wrapped firmly around Illith’ra’s forearm as her other hand wraps beneath her jaw and presses on her throat. “This doesn’t bother you, does it? Me sparring with Ivory. We were just having a good time, Grim. Just having a good time.” She whispers the last bit in the woman’s ear, then presses her cold cheek to her temple. Her fingers slowly tighten on the Illidari.

“Let her go!” Asheeda shouts. She freezes as the death knight casts her gaze over to her. “Please, Diori? Or…what was your name?”

“ _It doesn’t matter!_ ” Alisbeth shouts.

Eldon scowls and steps to Grimory’s side, clearly unamused.

“You hurt even another _hair_ on her and we are _through_ , do you understand me?” Grimory’s knuckles whiten as his fists tighten further. “Or you can let her go and we can talk about whatever’s caused this, yeah?”

Alisbeth closes her eyes, a tear rolling down one cheek and onto Illith’ra’s shoulder. “I see now,” she hisses. “I was never good enough,” she says loud enough for him to hear. “I will never be good enough. Not because I’m a monster. Not because I’m broken… It’s because I’m not _her_.” She lifts the woman’s head so she’s looking at Grimory. “This is it. This is why you’re here.” She tilts her head to rest it on the other woman’s, her frown deepening and her chin crinkling. She closes her eyes and kisses the woman’s temple at the same time she sends a shock of freezing power into the Illith’ra’s brain. She releases her and stands with her hands out and her stoic gaze on Grimory.

Illith’ra’s eyes become hazy as her body goes limp and she falls. Grimory races forward to catch her before she can hit the ground. He glares up at the death knight. “I don’t know what it is you think is going on, Ali, but you’re wrong,” he says low enough for only her to hear as Eldon steps forward.

“Varedis can decide what happens to you,” the night elf growls and takes her by one of her wrists.

Alisbeth blinks and starts laughing. “For sparring? We were just practicing.” She tries to rip her arm away, but he holds fast. Her face contorts to a sneer. “Get your hands—” She grabs his wrist and squeezes hard against the bones. “—off me.” She bursts out laughing again. “We’re having fun, right?” She sets her manic grin and wide eyes on Eldon. “Aren’t you having fun?”

Asheeda runs in, an awkward bundle of potions in her arms. “Di— A— Eldon, let me handle it!”

Alisbeth cocks her head to the side. “ _Crooockolisssk boooy_ ,” she sings, then says, “I’m gonna make a _suit_ out of you.”

The Illidari looks behind her and, seeing no one, frowns, a shiver running up her spine. “W-what?”

“ _Let me go!_ ” Alisbeth struggles against the night elf. “Don’t put me in my room. I don’t want to go back to the dark.” She pulls back, crying. “I don’t want to be alone.” She drops straight down to her rear and sobs into her free palm. “Don’t let them lock me back up. I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be good.”

Grimory sighs as he watches the other two stare down at her, befuddled. He lifts Illith’ra and hands her to Eldon. “Get Illie to the infirmary. I’ll take Alisbeth to detainment.” He kneels to look at her. “Are you okay?”

Alisbeth leans away from him. In a split second, she reaches over and slaps him. After a moment in silence, she reaches out to slap him again.

Grimory jerks in surprise but is quick enough to catch her by the wrist. He frowns at her, breathing quietly as he chooses his words. “Come on. We can talk in the hall.”

Alisbeth rips her hand away from him. “Why?” She demands loudly. “Is it because you don’t want everyone else to see me? Am I making a scene? _Am I embarrassing you?_ ” She gets to her feet and stomps away, then abruptly spins on him again. “I was never going to be good enough for you. _Admit it!_ ”

The crowd behind them begins to murmur and Grimory swallows and he cautiously ushers her toward the door. “This isn’t the place for this. Please, can we just talk in private?”

“You’re just like Koltira,” Alisbeth spits. “I thought you were different. _But you’re not!_ You just want to lock me up again. You just want to forget about me.” She aims a heavy punch at his sternum. “Get rid of me so you don’t have to lie anymore. So, you can have someone else warming your bed.”

Grimory grunts and steps back. The murmurs around him grow, along with his anger. He decides nothing he says will work, and so resorts to preserving the past. “That’s not it at all! We only knew each other for a day! You expected me to wait for you after you trot off into the sunset after giving me a fake name?!”

Alisbeth’s mouth curves into a deep frown. “This whole time…I never meant anything to you? Oh.” She backs away from him as though physically struck. “That makes sense. It all makes sense now.” Her lips purse together as her tears fall harder, blinding her. “I hate you.” The death knight runs from the room, unknowing and uncaring where she’s headed.

Grimory growls to himself, not bothering to meet the gaze of those behind him, then leaves to follow. “Ali, wait!”

The death knight ignores his distant voice, instead picking up her pace as she races through the halls.

~ * ~

After a while of searching, Grimory sighs as he stops at the end of the last corridor. A figure passes and he perks, then runs to catch up. “Alchemist! Have you seen Ali? Er, Diori? The blood knight…that knocked you out.”

Asheeda’s eyes go wide as she grips her potions to her. “My name is Asheeda. Not Alchemist.” She looks around them and takes a step closer to him. “Illie woke up. She said it felt like there was an ice storm in her brain.” Her lips purse tight and she steps even closer. “Is there something I should know about Diori?” she whispers.

A rush of relief washes over him about Illith’ra, then he hesitates. “She’s…not—” He sighs. “She can lose it sometimes, yeah?”

Asheeda swallows. “I casually asked if she was insane and she… Well. I woke up in the infirmary with a bandage on my forehead, so… And I was just starting to like her.” Her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. “I guess I just hope she’s not coming back?” She continues to her laboratory. “The infirmary is low on potions. I don’t really feel like making a round trip and if you’re headed to see Illie… And I’m sorry for the threat the other night. I just don’t like being threatened. I won’t tell anyone…even if you tell on me.”

“I won’t te— Hold on.” He stops to look at her. “You said your name was Asheeda?”

Asheeda’s face flashes with aggravation, before it falls in defeat she sulks again. “Like a million times. I even introduced myself to you. We were initiated at the same time. Don’t worry, you’re not the first to forget me. Won’t be the last.”

“Sorry, I just—” He shakes his head. “Never mind. You said you wanted me to deliver some potions?”

“I hate when people tell me never mind,” she mutters, passing him to lead him down the hall and around a corner. “Just finish your sentence. Obviously it was important enough to voice, and then you just stop?” She scoffs. “It’s a big crate of them. You can handle it.”

Grimory cannot help smirking. “No. Really. You don’t want to hear it. Where is it?”

“Maybe I _do_ want to hear it! I have an inquisitive mind. It’s not fair.” She opens the door to her lab and stops. Several bottles sit open and empty on the counter or broken on the floor. The faint sound of sniffling breaks the air from near her cot. She steps forward, grabbing a letter opener and holding it up as a weapon. She approaches the man curled on her cot and crying into his knees. “Okay, vandal, who are you?”

“I just wanted something to make me sleep. None of these made me sleep, Ashy. They’re bad potions.”

Asheeda pauses. “Uh…Diori? Or whatever your name is…”

“They weren’t labeled.”

The Illidari woman widens her eyes at Grimory and motions for him to try talking to the elf on the cot.

Grimory blinks down at the man and takes a step forward. “Ali?”

Alisbeth stiffens. She sniffs but doesn’t lift her head.

“At least two of those were sleeping potions,” Asheeda announces as she looks over the bottles. “We have to get her to the infirmary!” She runs to pull Alisbeth’s face up from her knees, stifling a giggle at the attractive man frowning back at her. “Ali? Right? Y-you’ve ingested a toxic mix of potions. We have to get you to a healer. Can you walk?”

“I just want to sleep until the nightmare is over,” she whimpers.

Grimory sighs and sets a hand on Asheeda’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine.” He gives the male Alisbeth a small frown. “Look, Ali. I don’t get where all this is coming from but…” He gives Asheeda a sideways glance. “It’s not what you think.”

Asheeda jolts. “ _Fine?_ She should be convulsing on the floor!”

The death knight yanks her chin away and lays her cheek on her knees. “I saw you with her.” She sniffles quietly a moment. “I want to go home… Back to my room, where I belong.”

Grimory pauses and furrows his brow, then wets his lips and looks away for a brief second. “Ali, I was with her at this time, yeah? It’d be suspicious if I didn’t pretend.”

Alisbeth shakes her head as the potion wears off. Once the fog clears, and it’s her looking at him, she lets out a cough of a cry. “You weren’t pretending. I’m not an idiot. You pretended with me, though. I see it now.” She sniffs and thumbs at her face. “I need to leave. The cave. I’m supposed to go to the cave. I got lost and I knew I could ask you. But you weren’t there for me.” She claws at her scalp and smacks the flat of her palm against the side of her head. “Monster. Filthy monster. Not worth being loved. Unworthy.”

Grimory jumps and grabs her wrist before she can hurt herself again. “Ali, no! That’s not true! I—…” He sighs. “I do really care about you. I just need to act like I care about her while we’re here, yeah? I promise I still…like you.” His face softens and he frowns. “I mean it.”

“Liar,” she hisses. “Liar!” She shoves her way off the cot, her limbs slightly weak from the sleeping potions. “I have to kill Thor. You can just…have her. Forever. I never want to see you again.”

Grimory shakes his head and holds tightly to her wrist. “No, Ali, please. You’ve got to believe me.” He pauses. “Wait, who’s Thor?”

“What do you care?” Alisbeth screams. “Tristram and his pals talk in the halls at night. But they don’t know I don’t sleep. So, I listened.”

Asheeda pauses in cleaning up the glass from the bottles. “You…don’t sleep?”

Grimory’s eyes widen and he turns her back to look at him. “You know who the assassin is? Who?!”

“Assassin? What?” Asheeda asks, her purple eyes wide.

Alisbeth growls. “I told you his name! And he’s mine! I’ll get rid of Thundercat. Then Lord Illidan will make me an Illidari. His right hand, even!”

“No! Lord Illidan can’t know!” He growls and turns to look at Asheeda. “And you can’t say a word of this to anyone, yeah? No one.”

Asheeda drops the vials in her hands and jumps, her eyes wide. “Oh, no. This is where you threaten my life. Ah…” She glances around nervously. “I-I really wasn’t planning on…telling anyone.”

Alisbeth pushes Grimory out of her way. “How dare you threaten her!” She goes to the other woman to grab her in a hug, but the Illidari backs away, a hand out. Alisbeth stops and frowns. “Oh.” Her tears return. “I see.” After scanning both of their faces, she stares at the floor, then pushes out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

“Please leave,” she says to Grimory. “I promise, I have no one to even tell. I just…you and she bring so much into my life that I never want to be a part of. So just go. And don’t ever come back. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist. All right?”

Grimory growls, finally getting caught up in his anger. “I wasn’t threatening you, all right? I was asking you! Stop being so fucking dramatic!” He follows suit into the hallway where he can see Alisbeth retreating and slams the door. “And I don’t give a fuck what you do anymore!” he calls after her and turns to storm off toward the infirmary.

Alisbeth freezes at his words. She doesn’t move for several minutes. Then she squares her shoulders, bites down, and strides through the halls until she finds a door that leads outside. The guard calls out to her as she passes, but she ignores him and continues walking. After a long time, and after checking several empty caves, she realizes how lost she is. She enters the next empty cave she finds and huddles in the darkness at the back.


	26. Chapter 25

Taveth groans and lays back. “Haven’t seen Grim in three days. Still no Alisbeth. Good news is, no urgent scrolls from Kel’ori and no attacks from angry blood knights. Why is waiting so unbearable?”

“Maybe Alisbeth got lost,” Anarchaia says, conjuring bubbles of different colors and popping them for entertainment. “We should go look for her.”

“She may still be at the temple?” Taveth says.

“If that’s the case, then it’s Grim’s responsibility,” Koltira says evenly from the mouth of the cave, where he’s polishing the blade of Byfrost for the millionth time. “Though, wandering off to search for something that may or may not be missing sounds so much more exciting than sitting here and waiting for more fights.”

The mage stands and brushes her palms off on her robes. “I concur. Maybe two of us should go look and the others can stay in case she returns.”

“Me!” Taveth shouts and scrambles to his feet.

Koltira, mouth still open, narrows his eyes at the high elf. “Excuse me, but maybe someone who can protect her should go?”

Taveth frowns. “You’re right. She needs a big, strong bodyguard, doesn’t she?”

Koltira begins to stand.

“Keeshokin, come.”

The demon stomps into the cave, scowling. <<I’m not a dog.>>

“No, but you did come. And now I’m taking you for a walk.” Taveth grins up at him, then down at the death knight.

Koltira drops back to the ground and throws a pebble at the scholar. “You suck.”

“If we don’t return, just assume this guy,” he jerks his thumb at the felguard, “rebelled and murdered us both.”

<<That would certainly be the best day of my miserable existence.>>

Anarchaia furrows her brow and pouts as she follows the two outside. “I don’t need protecting…”

Jorick chuckles. “She’s probably the strongest of any of us. But yes. Let the bookworm and the meathead tag along.”

“Ana,” Koltira calls, “don’t let him fall in a pool of lava.”

Taveth scoffs and nudges the mage in the ribs with an elbow. “You don’t think I’m that incompetent, do you?”

Anarchaia gives him a smile. “I think you’ve gotten us out of more sticky situations than you give yourself credit for.”

“How many of them did I cause, though? Heh.” He stares out at the land and frowns. “Which way should we go first?”

“Not nearly as many as you think,” she chuckles. “And let’s try south first.”

The duo travels along the road for a long time before Taveth purses his lips. “Would she really stick to the roads? Maybe she went to the wrong cave?” He motions at one not far from them.

“You’re right. That sounds a lot like something she’d do.” She makes her way toward the aforementioned cave and peers inside. She clears her throat and cups her mouth with her hands. “Ali?”

Almost instantly, a couple of imps run at them from inside the cave, cackling as they ignite fireballs in their fists.

“Of course,” Taveth says.

Keeshokin stomps into the cave and brings his giant boot down on one imp, then cuts the other in half with his axe. <<I hate imps,>> he says in response to Taveth’s shocked stare.

“Moving on, then? Moving on.” He takes Anarchaia’s elbow and ushers her toward the next cave. “I hope we find her soon.”

The mage shudders at the gurgling upper half of the imp and grimaces as she’s dragged away. “Right.”

When they reach the next system, she again glances inside, this time hesitating before calling in.

Taveth purses his lips. “Okay. Not the most reliable idea, but it’s the best I’ve got.” He whispers in demonic and an imp pops into view. “I need you to—”

Keeshokin’s boot comes down on the imp.

He bites his lips together and glares at the felguard. “ _That_ imp was our friend!”

<<I hate imps.>>

The high elf pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go stand over there.”

The demon scoffs and doesn’t move.

“I said go stand over there before I have Tryx _make_ you stand over there!”

Keeshokin growls quietly, the mutters demonic obscenities as he stomps away.

“Seriously, who’s the master, here?” He summons another imp. “Imp, I need—”

<<Pagmir.>>

“I…what?”

<<Pagmir. _Pagmir!_ >>

“Okay. Yes. Go search in that cave for a blood elf. Don’t fight anything while you’re in there, okay?”

It stares at him in silence for a long time, before taking off into the dark of the cave. Keeshokin rumbles a laugh from where he stands.

“Dumbest creatures I’ve ever…” The elf purses his lips at Anarchaia. “I’m so glad I’m not trying to impress you.”

She chuckles and shrugs. “Well I’m apparently real easy to impress, so… At least that’s what Master says.” She stares into the dark abyss, anxious. A long minute passes. “I bet he’s dead.”

Taveth chuckles. “If only others were as easily impressed as you. I don’t think Eophen is impressed by it…” He sighs sadly, then folds his arms impatiently. After another minute he summons a new imp. “Imp, I need you to—”

<<Pagmir!>>

The high elf’s eyelids lower. “Your name is Pagmir, isn’t it?”

<<Yes. _Yes!_ >>

He blinks slowly and turns to the mage. “Well…he’s not dead.” He turns back to Pagmir. “Did you even go into the cave?”

<<Yes.>>

“And did you find a blood elf?”

<<No.>>

“And you didn’t come back out and tell me because…?”

<<Wasn’t told to.>> Pagmir cackles and runs away, then disappears right as Keeshokin’s boot comes down over him.

“I think I hate imps, too,” Taveth mumbles.

She gives him a sympathetic smile and rests a hand on his shoulder. “I think Eophen likes you. A lot. You don’t see how he looks at you when you don’t notice.” She directs him further down the cliffs.

The elf shrugs. “I really doubt it. I think he just likes me as a friend. Which I suppose is fine. Not like I’d go around being lewd in caves with my friends a few yards away.” He smirks slyly at her. “I don’t know. I guess I just get jealous of you. You’ve got a companion. Someone to go home to.” He leans into the next cave and sees nothing, so they continue on.

Anarchaia’s shoulders jump. “W-we didn’t do anything! I just pulled on his hair! He likes that!” She waves her hands erratically to change the subject. “And he does too like you! He blushes whenever you compliment him and smiles when you do something cute.”

“Things I was happy not knowing about Koltira…” He sighs. “I guess. I don’t know. And now I’ll never know because I disappeared into thin air.”

The pair continue walking and checking caves for another hour, until the elf insists on sitting down for a break. He stops, however, as something catches his eye.

“A-Ali? _Ali!_ ” He rushes back to grab her in a hug. “You found us! How long were you following us? Why didn’t you say something?”

<<An hour,>> the felguard says casually.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he demands.

The demon shrugs. <<You were busy.>>

The death knight remains quiet, her gaze fixed on nothing as she keeps her head slightly ducked.

Anarchaia frowns and leans to look into her face. “Ali? Are you all right? Did something happen?”

Alisbeth turns her head away so as not to look at the mage, and says nothing.

“Come on,” Taveth says. “Let’s get back to the cave.”

The return trip is swift in comparison to the search and soon they’re at their own cave again.

Koltira stops throwing pebbles at the wall as they approach. “And my money was on still at the temple with Grim being unable to get her to come back.”

“Guess you owe me ten gold,” Jorick says to the ceiling, bobbing his foot on his knee.

“She kind of found us. Heh.” Anarchaia stokes the dying fire. “But refuses to talk…”

Alisbeth’s bare feet make no noise as she walks to the back of the cave and huddles down against the wall.

“That’s kind of our shower,” Koltira shouts. When he gets no response and she doesn’t move, he shakes his head and returns to throwing rocks.

“How much longer, do you think?” Taveth asks. “I…kind of hope this is the only thing we have to do, and then we can go home.” He flips to the page in his journal. Upon seeing no reply, he flings the item across the cave and folds his arms over his chest.

Anarchaia jumps at the noise, then sighs at the disarray of her party. “Until Grim gets back and the assassin—if there even is one—has been killed.”

“I reckon he can do that without us waiting around in a cave for him,” Jorick says, scratching at his bandaged arm.

Koltira shakes his head. “We’re his backup, if he finds he cannot complete the task on his own. We don’t even know if this assassin is working alone or not.”

Jorick sighs heavily. “I guess that makes sense.”

Anarchaia sits by the fire. “Ali? Come sit by the rest of us?”

The death knight at the end of the short tunnel doesn’t move or give any sign of having heard.

Taveth shivers. “Remember the last time she acted like this?”

Koltira stops mid-throw and looks down the cave at her, then at the high elf. “Are you suggesting…” He makes a quick motion along his neck.

The elf shrugs. “I mean, how would we know any different?”

A pang of concern strikes through the mage and she furrows her brow. She stands. “Maybe I should go to the temple.”

“What? What are we insinuating?” Jorick says, sitting up on his elbows.

Taveth glances at his cousin, then mirrors the motion Koltira had made. “Maybe I should go with you.”

Koltira lets out a long breath. “Getting tired of being the one staying behind!”

The high elf purses his lips. “Take Tryx, actually.”

The demoness steps through a portal and smiles down at her master. <<You called?>>

“Go with Ana. Take her to the side entrance we found last time.” He turns to look at the mage. “No guards, but you’ll have to be flown to the stairs.”

<<Will you spank me if I do this for you?>>

His nose wrinkles. “I’ll command Keeshokin to…spank you…if you do this.”

<<Good enough!>> She hooks her arm through the mage’s and sets off for the entrance of the cave.

Jorick snerks. “Y’know, maybe bein’ a warlock has its perks.”

Taveth scowls. “I’ve yet to encounter any ‘perks.’”

Jorick lifts his brows and ticks items on his fingers. “You get pets that do your bidding, you can heal yourself whenever you want, sexy demon hookers?”

Taveth remains unamused. He lifts a hand to start ticking things off on his fingers. “Ridiculed, feared, hated, useless because my friends refuse what aid I can provide, and Tryxora is honestly the worst part of it. I would take Keeshokin—gods, I would take _Spinewing_ threatening my life at every turn—over a succubus who is not only lewd every moment of every day, but also determined to bed me, whether I want to or not. Which I do not. You want her? Take her. You want your own? I know how you can make that happen. Just remember the way you and everyone treats _me_ before you decide that what I am is in any way glamorous.” He folds his arms and glowers into the fire.

Koltira tosses a stone in the air, then throws it against the wall with enough force that it bounces back to him. “It’s not _you_ , Taveth. It’s the fel.”

“Hating a large part of what I am means hating a large part of me, Koltira. You may say it isn’t so, but it’s always there at the back of your mind.”

Jorick slowly lies back down. “Feels to me like you care a lot about what other people think of you. Maybe you should just take some solace in the fact that you have friends who don’t care what you are. I would never want my few friends wrapped up in the lifestyle I’ve chosen, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to complain when they also don’t agree with it.” He shrugs. “But that’s me. Clearly we’re two different people.”

Taveth grits his teeth. “I liked it better when we sat in silence for two days.” He stands and goes to sit beside Alisbeth.

She doesn’t acknowledge him, but slowly tilts her head until it’s leaning on his shoulder.

Jorick makes a gesture with his hands. “Right. Don’t rain on the pity party. Got it,” he grumbles and folds his arms indignantly.

Koltira purses his lips. “I know what he means. And I’ve spent far too long in my own pity party over it. As has Ana over her own situation. Sucking it up and getting over it is not an easy thing to do. Ana hasn’t shown her face in twenty years. Taveth only just started using his abilities openly. Give him time to get used to the ridicule.” He throws another rock hard enough to cause chips of the wall to rain down. “Then we can tell him to get over it.”

Jorick furrows his brow and opens his mouth to respond, then pauses. “Twenty years?” His eyes dart around the ceiling and he chews on the inside of his lip. “Huh.”

“Give or take. Why?” Koltira asks.

Jorick shakes his head. “No reason.”

~ * ~

“B-but my illusion!” Anarchaia says, but the demoness already has her a ways away from the cave opening.

<<Put it on! No one can see you,>> Tryxora says.

Anarchaia sneers at the language. “I don’t know what you said, but my point is that I don’t need any help!” A cloud of sparkles envelopes her and she dons a succubus illusion identical to the woman beside her. She scowls and heads on. “Everyone seems to think I can’t handle myself. I may be far from home, but I’m just as capable…”

The demoness scowls at the mage, but not because of her use of her form. <<If Taveth cared about me half as much as he cares about you, I would be grateful. Instead, I get to babysit a whining brat.>> She yanks her hand from the mage and folds her arms beneath her bosom. She scowls at the human. <<But if you want to just go off on your own, fine. Be my guest. But just know, they won’t let a lone demon through the front door. And they especially won’t let you leave the pleasure palace.>>

Anarchaia turns as her hand is yanked away, then purses her lips through the entirety of the demoness’ prattling. “Oh, you don’t want come with, now? Fine! I got in just fine before. I don’t need you!” She turns and stomps her way back toward the temple.

Tryxora balls her fists and rushes after the mage. <<You will give yourself away in an instant. Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.>> She leads the mage to the side entrance and, without asking, flies her up, struggling against the extra weight on her smaller wings. <<I’ve never worked so hard for a spanking,>> she grumbles, catching her breath.

Anarchaia grunts as she’s set back on her feet, then gives the succubus a look as she trots down the corridor. She peeks around the corner and steps out once the coast is clear. “Thanks,” she mumbles after her pride fades.

The demoness narrows her eyes at the woman. <<What did I say?>> She reaches over and pinches the mage’s lips together, then holds a finger up to her own lips. <<Don’t speak.>>

Two guards walk around the corner, and the succubus immediately grabs Anarchaia and giggles as she embraces her lustfully and presses kisses to her lips. The Illidari blink at the display for longer than necessary, then one clears his throat.

“Ladies. Take it to the chambers upstairs?”

<<Of course,>> Tryxora says, releasing the mage. <<But first… What’s a girl gotta do to get a spanking around here?>> She turns her rear to the mage but keeps her eyes on the men.

The mage blinks, still reeling and face red. She shakes her head to snap out of it, then hesitates. “U-uhm.” She places a gentle, halfhearted smack on the other demoness’ behind, then laughs uncomfortably.

The men both cringe. “Right. Well. Move along.”

Tryxora’s face falls in disappointment. <<I’m almost sure Taveth could do a better job.>> She ushers the mage up a stairwell away from the guards, then back down another. <<Okay. Where would he be?>> she says very slowly, enunciating emphatically as though the mage will magically understand.

Anarchaia stares at her for a long beat. “So, anyway. I’m pretty sure he’s either training or…” She slinks through the halls with the other succubus on the heels of her hooves. They turn into a somewhat crowded hallway near the bottom of the temple and she notices a familiar blond ponytail. She bounds forward, weaving through the people to grasp Grimory by the arm. “Hey,” she whispers, ignoring the strange looks.

The Illidari turns from his conversation with the woman beside him. “Oh. You. What?”

She blinks at his attitude. “The assassin?”

“I’m working on it, yeah? I’ll come back when the job is done.” He pries his arm away and continues down the hall.

Anarchaia huffs, annoyed.

Tryxora’s brow lowers again. She slips in on the other side of the demon hunter and smiles sweetly. << _Our_ master is worried for your safety,>> she hisses, maintaining the smile. <<Tell us what you need so we can help expedite this nonsense.>>

The corners of Grimory’s lips tighten and he leans away. <<Well tell him that knowing the name of the fucking assassin would help a ton. Other than that, I’m fine, okay?>>

<<I don’t have that. Spank for the road?>> the demoness turns her rear to him as she’d done the mage, but this time she gives it a little wiggle.

Grimory scowls. “Yeah, no.”

The succubus sighs and stomps away, muttering in demonic.

Anarchaia gives the demon hunter a look. “Thanks. Just send word, okay?”

He gives her thumbs up and she rolls her eyes.

“Wait for me!” She trots off after the succubus.


	27. Chapter 26

Taveth’s lower eyelid twitches at the steady beat of Koltira’s rocks being thrown against the wall. “Would you stop!” he screams.

Koltira pauses and looks him in the eyes, then throws another. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

He groans and flops onto his back, head leaning against the mage. “I should send Tryx in for more news. It’s been… How many days has it been?” He looks to Anarchaia for his answer.

“Several,” she says.

“We’re running low on supplies. We’ll have to make a run soon if he doesn’t come back,” Jorick says, smoothing the last of his salve over his healing burns.

Taveth rolls to the mage and sets his head on her shoulder. “I think I’ve got cabin fever.”

“That’s a sea thing,” Koltira says.

“Is it?” Anarchaia says.

“Yeah,” Grimory says as he steps into the cave.

The mage sits up. “You’re back!”

Taveth yelps as his head is jerked up, then again as it hits the ground with a dull _thud_. “Oh. Gods. I’m blind. The pain. You monster.”

“Sorry. Heh.”

He cringes at the demon hunter, attempting to smile. “So, how are things in the temple?”

Koltira bounces a rock off the demon hunter as he passes. “Are we storming the castle or going home?”

“It’s been taken care of,” Grimory grumbles. “Would have been a lot easier _with some help_ ,” he hisses loud enough to carry through to the back of the cave. “But it’s done.”

Taveth’s brow furrows. “Tryxora said you turned down her offer for help.”

“In exchange for a spanking? Yeah, I did. But Alisbeth knew who he was. But she’d rather be mad at me and risk the whole mission instead.”

“What’d you do?” Anarchaia asks.

“My job,” he grumbles.

A purple portal swirls into existence, then dissipates to reveal the succubus sharpening her claws on a file. <<Don’t lie about me, Grimory. I can hear you, you know.>>

“What’s he lying about?” Taveth asks.

<<I offered to help free of charge. It was only when he turned me down that I tried to get a spanking out of him. You’re _all_ disappointing, by the way.>>

Koltira stands, dusting himself off. “So, we’re done then? We can get out of here?”

<<You’re disappointing,>> Grimory snaps. “Yes. We can get back to the outpost and decide our next move.” He sighs. “But maybe we should stop in Shattrath for supplies.” He furrows his brow at the human. “What happened to you?”

“Things,” Jorick responds plainly.

Anarchaia helps Taveth to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

He collects his things and goes to the back of the cave to take Alisbeth by the hand and lead her out to meet the others. “Okay. Hopefully the return trip, save the stop in Shattrath, is much faster than the trip down here. Will we be staying the night? I could really use an _actual_ shower.”

“I like the way this man thinks,” Koltira says. “Let’s get a move on.”

Anarchaia sighs. “I can’t wait to be home where I can have a hot shower whenever I please,” she says wistfully as she follows them back to the west.

“Same,” Jorick says after donning his armor again and following. “I’m mostly excited for medicine, if I’m being honest. Knee’s not healing quite as quickly as I’d like.”

Taveth keeps his mouth shut about all of the alternatives the mercenary had turned down, instead grumbling silently that the man had no right to complain about the pain he’d brought upon himself.

Koltira hums. “That inn last week had very…cozy showers. Barely enough room in there to do everything necessary.” He casts the mage a sly grin.

Taveth whines. “You had hot showers? Where no one _stared_ at you?”

Anarchaia flushes and turns to hide her smile, then jumps at Taveth’s accusation. “I didn’t stare at you! You told me not to!”

Grimory’s brow knits. “I’m not going to ask what you all have been doing.”

Taveth purses his lips. “The mere idea that you could…”

“While you were comfortable in the temple, we were forced to use our mage as a shower source,” Koltira says. “It was only fun for one of us.”

Jorick grins but keeps his thoughts to himself.

“You seem to think I’m some giant perv,” she says, folding her arms.

“Just a little one,” the other human adds, then chuckles when she hisses for him to be quiet.

Grimory rolls his eyes. “A weird team building exercise, but whatever.”

“You sound jealous,” Koltira says to the Illidari.

“About what? She’s seen me naked, too.”

Anarchaia’s face turns scarlet and her shoulders raise. “You’re all making me sound bad.”

Taveth chuckles. “Hey, it’s okay. I trust you. I’m sure you know you can trust me if the tables were turned.” He pulls at Alisbeth’s hand to make her keep up.

“In my experience, Ana can’t help looking. But that’s when there’s something to look at.” Koltira winks at her and pulls her close.

She purses her lips, cheek squished against his cuirass. “Yes. I feel much better. Thanks, guys.” _Not that there wasn’t plenty to look at_.

“Since you’ve seen everyone, then, who wins?” Grimory turns to lift a brow at her over his shoulder.

_“Grim!”_ she scoffs.

“Oh. Good to know,” he says, turning back with a smirk.

“No! Not— _ugh!_ ” She scowls more.

Taveth ducks his head and purses his lips.

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Spoken like a man who needs reassurances.”

The high elf scowls deeper. “Can we stop pretending anatomy is some sort of competition and just get safely out of Shadowmoon?”

“Now who sounds jealous?” Grimory says.

Anarchaia waves her hands frantically. “IagreewithTavetheveryoneshutup!”

Jorick sniggers from the back.

The party makes it safely to Terrokar Forest, the conversation drifting from subject to subject. Taveth looks over at Alisbeth, still holding her hand to make sure she’s following. The death knight continues to stare ahead, as though lost in a trance.

“How long to Shattrath now?” Koltira asks. “Though, I really shouldn’t go walking into the city. Or be seen. Being a death knight in this time-line is just begging for fights.”

“Not before nightfall. But a while longer if you all can stay awake,” Grimory explains.

Koltira’s lower lids raise up. “I’m sure I can stay awake that long. Thank you for the concern.”

“Maybe Mr. Dragon can give you a more convincing disguise,” Anarchaia says up to the death knight beside her. “Since you’re so worried all the time.”

He looks down at the mage, his lips pulled down at the corners. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure there’s a reason he only offered to use our appearances from this time.”

“I would imagine it would take a great deal more energy to fish an appearance from the past,” Taveth says. “It’s a shame. It would be interesting seeing you alive, too.”

Koltira chuckles. “Still awful, just not sickly blue, I suppose.” His brow furrows, though his smile remains. “I actually don’t even remember what I looked like.” He shrugs at the mage. “Guess you’re stuck with this mess.” He motions over his face.

Anarchaia scoffs. “Yeah. Because unattractive elves actually exist,” she drones sarcastically. “And you know I don’t mind what you look like. I simply thought it’d make you happier. I feel like I’ve said this already.”

Taveth raises his hand. “Unattractive elf here. I’m offended.”

Koltira laughs. “See? You hurt the kid’s feelings.” He pulls the mage closer and kisses the top of her head. “I’m just concerned. We’re lucky no one has come for my head, yet. They either don’t know what I am or are just confused as to why a death knight wouldn’t be in Icecrown right now. Shattrath, though… They’ll know. More of them means a big mob. I’d rather just avoid that situation altogether.” He lowers his voice so only she can hear him. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. You know this.”

“You’re attractive. Shut up,” she snaps over her shoulder, then gives Koltira a tentative frown. “I’ll stay out with you, then. I can forgo a hot shower if it means you’re safe.”

He narrows his eyes at Taveth and then Anarchaia. “I was going to encourage you to go into the city, but I may need you to stay with me, just so you’re not in the company of the _attractive_ elf.”

The mage again purses her lips up at her partner.

Taveth’s eyes go wide. “I— W-what? No! I’m not— She’s just—”

Koltira laughs and shakes his head.

The high elf pouts. “You were joking. Ha ha.” He looks at Alisbeth and sighs. “They’re dressed like Illidari,” he says, motioning at the two. “How were relations at this time?”

“We often went to Shattrath for supplies, trading, and recruitment,” Grimory says. “We’ll be fine. The only people not allowed in Shattrath are demons and the hellfire orcs.”

By the time the sun has set and the night is growing dark, Taveth is walking clumsily, his eyes heavy.

Koltira snaps his fingers in front of him. “Stay awake. We’re almost there.”

“I just… A break would have been nice.” He takes a drink from the water skin the mage had given him. “I’m so hungry, too. I was hoping for a real meal, but I’m so tired.”

“It’s only a few more miles. Surely you can handle it. Or do I have to carry you?” Grimory gives him a look.

Taveth whimpers. “My pride says no…”

“Or I can,” Koltira adds.

“Literally everyone here can carry me. I get it,” he grumbles. “Even Ana can. If I collapse, you have my permission. I don’t care who. Otherwise, I’m just f—” Taveth trips over a rock and nearly falls, but Alisbeth’s hand in his remains firm, saving him from sprawling. “That wasn’t a collapse,” he complains.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather not,” Jorick adds. “And that was half a collapse.”

It’s only an hour or so longer before the group reaches the outskirts of town. Anarchaia gives the four a small wave as they cross the bridge toward town.

“We’ll be at the front gates when you’re ready!” she calls.

Taveth waves behind him. “Be safe out here!” Once in the city, the four find an inn. They manage to secure the last two rooms. Taveth takes a key and drags his cousin away. “See you in the morning.”

Jorick and the demon hunter look at one another, the former spinning the key on a finger.

“There better be two beds,” Grimory grumbles and steps down the hall as well.

The human chuckles. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll fit on the floor.”

Anarchaia sighs and sits beneath the nearest tree. “At least this place is prettier than Shadowmoon. How long do we wait in the morning before we drag them out of their warm beds kicking and screaming?”

Koltira drops down beside her. “I think we can find ways to occupy our time, if they’re late.”

~ * ~

The next morning, both Grimory and Jorick are prepped and ready at the front of the inn. The human sighs and shakes more water from his damp hair. “So what’s up with Ali?” he asks casually.

“She saw me kissing my old girlfriend,” the other grumbles as he examines his nails. “We were together at this time and it’d have been weird if I didn’t, yeah?”

Jorick sucks his teeth. “Yikes. Welp. Good luck, buddy. She don’t seem like the reasonable type.”

“They never are.”

Jorick laughs. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Taveth thanks his lucky stars that Alisbeth is where he’d left her before his shower. He leaves his hair out of his usual ponytail to let it dry and leads her to the front. “Oh, good, we’re all here. Let’s get supplies and meet the others, then?”

“Well I’m out of coin, so if you need me, I’ll be at the front gates,” Jorick says tiredly and saunters off in said direction.

“I’m getting some rations,” Grimory grunts and trots in the opposite direction.

“Good morning,” Anarchaia sings to the human as he steps from the bridge and onto the path. “Where is everyone else?”

“All dead,” he responds blandly and gestures to the road. “Shall we?”

Taveth frowns as the others leave him behind. “Guess it’s just you and me,” he says to the death knight. She blinks slowly in response. At the first vendor, he asks about his King’s token. They wave him away. He goes to the front gates to meet the others, his expression as lost as Alisbeth’s, though his lips are pressed to an irritated line.

“Just one more,” Koltira says.

As though on cue, the Illidari falls from the sky and onto his feet, the satchel at his hip heavier with supplies. He folds his wings. “Let’s get going. We have a ways to go.”

Anarchaia groans. “Hate those words.”

“So, what’s today’s topic of discussion?” Koltira asks a few minutes later. He glances around at the others, taking in the sour moods.

The mage taps her chin in thought. “Cats.”

“No,” Grimory says.

“Not a pussy fan, are you?” the human says.

He turns to Jorick and scowls.

“Dogs?” Anarchaia continues with a shrug.

The group moves through the thick of the forest, cutting off the trail to make better time.

Koltira chuckles at the mage under his arm. “Any other animals you want to—”

He’s cut short as she is suddenly thrown forward out of his arm. He pauses, trying to take in the sight of the woman nailed to the tree ahead of them by a red and black spear. He turns around to glare at the blood knight behind them as Taveth rushes to Anarchaia’s side.

“Does it hurt? Wait, of course it hurts.”

Koltira draws Byfrost. “You should have stayed dead at the Botanica.”

Anarchaia groans as blood pours down her front and legs. “The shard—” She looks down to see the pole sticking out just beneath her bustline, then sighs in relief before cringing in pain. “Yes. A lot.” She weakly pushes at the tree in an attempt to unpin herself and cries out.

The mercenary joins them, clearly frazzled. “Ana! Are you all right?! Don’t move!” He unsheathes his short sword, hoping it’s sharp enough to hack through the well-made spear.

Taveth stops the human. “The shaft is metal, look. It’s just a leather wrap. You’ll destroy your sword.”

Grimory turns and scowls as well. “You’re alive? You let her live?”

The blood knight blinks. “What sort of greeting is that, Grimory? I’ve come to liberate you from these imbeciles.”

“Imbeciles?” Koltira demands. “Unless I’m mistaken, you just threw your only weapon.”

“Shut up and tend to your dying whore.”

Koltira looks over his shoulder as the blood knight waves the demon hunter to her. “Ana, do you need my help, or can I kill this bitch?”

“Any time!” Anarchaia responds with a tone of annoyance and stress.

“Liberate?” Grimory blinks, the odd, cobbled memories returning to him. “Oh. Oh, right!” He smirks and gives Koltira a look. “I can take care of her.” He steps forward. “Right, then.”

Jorick cringes at the squelching sounds when she pushes herself farther up the handle. “Stupid reliable elf weapons.”

As Koltira retreats to help the mage, the woman steps slowly to the Illidari.

“I thought I’d lost you.” She takes his hands in hers and looks up into his eyes. “I missed you, Grimory. I won’t let you go again. I promise.”

“Ana, you’re going to hate this.” Koltira takes the polearm in both hands and yanks it free from the trunk. He pulls the mage into one arm and holds her gaze, his other fist wrapped around the shaft. “Focus on me. One the count of three, ready?”

Anarchaia whimpers, tears in her one eye. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.” She nods.

Grimory tilts his head only slightly, his brow furrowed in curiosity. “I don’t know what you see in me, miss, but I appreciate how much you care. Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

The woman nods. “I owe you an explanation. I know.” She slips her arms around him in a delicate hug. “I’m just so glad I found you.”

Koltira braces himself. “One—” He rips the spear through her in one sudden jerk, thankful that the small head at the other end didn’t catch. The death knight drops it to the ground, then holds the mage. “I’m sorry.”

The blood knight leans around Grimory at the sound of screaming. “Damn it. Get behind me. I’ll take care of them and then we can be on our way.”

Jorick fidgets helplessly, knuckles white beneath his gloves. “I don’t know much about the undead. Are you going to be all right?”

Anarchaia claws at the death knight’s cuirass as her wails of pain subside. She whimpers again. “On a scale of one-to-eating my own eyeball, this is a hard eight…” she says as more blood seeps into her once white robes.

“No!” Grimory gently takes her by the shoulder. “I know they hurt you, but they aren’t bad. Even so, they won’t last out here without my guidance. We can just leave them, yeah?”

The blood knight stares up at him. “Are you protecting them?” she practically spits.

Koltira growls and hands Anarchaia to the other human. “Keep pressure on the wounds. I’m finishing this.” He wipes his hands on his cloak and gets Byfrost once more. “Grim, hold her down.”

Grimory hesitates, eyes darting between the two. “H-hold on. We don’t have to kill her, yeah?”

“Are you joking?!” Jorick barks from the base of the bloodied tree. “ _Cut her fuckin’ head off!_ ”

The Illidari grits his teeth and looks at the blood knight. “You should probably run,” he whispers as low as possible.

“Come with me,” she whispers back. She reaches her hand out for him.

A whip cracks in the air, wrapping around the blood knight’s neck and ripping her backward. Tryxora flicks her wrist to loosen the whip, then hits her with it again, sending the woman sliding. Keeshokin stomps through a portal behind the succubus and readies his axe. The blood knight rolls away and the blade is buried into the dirt.

“Put the dagger down,” she commands Taveth, eyes wide.

“You hurt my best friend. I’m not doing anything you want,” he shouts back.

She ducks as Byfrost swings around to hit her, then rolls away. She goes to dive for her spear, but jerks back as the sad, blue eyes of Alisbeth meet hers. The distraction proves enough for Koltira to rip the woman through the air and back within his reach.

Jorick shakes his head down at the woman pressed tightly to his chest plate. “No no no, don’t close your eyes. You’re gonna be all right, little bird. You’re not gonna die, okay?”

She laughs quietly. “I’ll be fine…”

Grimory panics at the chaos surrounding him. He lunges forward toward the flying woman. “W-wait, Kolt don’t! It’s not her fault!”

The blood knight lands against Grimory and straightens, gripping his arm as she gets her bearings.

Koltira sneers. “Move. Or I’ll go _through_ you.”

“Grim. Don’t make me!” Taveth says.

The succubus circles the two, waiting for her moment. <<Do it, master. Order him to kill her!>>

The knight casts sad eyes up at the demon hunter. “You’re not my Grimory, are you?”

Grimory glares over his shoulder. “Is now really the time for that? Just stay behind me, yeah?” He turns back to give Taveth a look through the distance between them, keeping the death knight in his peripherals. “Don’t do it.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she objects.

Taveth looks to the mage covered in blood, then back at the Illidari. He squeezes one of Anarchaia’s hands as small comfort to both of them. “Grim. I order you to kill her.”

Tryxora giggles and claps, then sends her whip at the blood knight’s neck again. The woman ducks and the whip slashes across the man. The blood knight skitters away, making a second dive for her spear.

At the command, both of the Illidari’s arms blacken and morph into hulking claws. He grunts at the whip to his back then, as though with a will of their own, his arm reaches to grab the woman by an ankle. “I’m sorry,” he says sadly, dragging her back toward himself and visibly struggling with himself.

“Wh-what is— No! Grimory, let me go!” The woman scrabbles at the ground, trying to get hold of something.

Koltira doesn’t wait. He strides over and kicks the face of her helm as hard as he can. The felguard stomps to the other side and smashes a thick boot into her chest. She coughs and curls in on herself.

Distressed, the demon hunter lifts his claws and reluctantly brings them down toward the woman’s gut.

The blood knight curls around his hand, her eyes wide on his. “G-Grim…ory?” She pries his hand away and turns to crawl toward her spear. The whole way, the demons kick at her. Blood spurts from beneath her mask as her breath comes in painful rasps.

“Wait,” Taveth orders the others as she ends up at his feet. “I want to know who she is.”

Grimory stops and scowls at him, blood dripping from his claws, and chest heaving as he pants with rage. “Then do it your- _fucking_ -self.”

Koltira sneers. “Her head doesn’t have to be attached for that.”

The woman drags herself up to sit on a hip. Her arm raised in surrender. “I know when I’ve been beaten. Please. Just end my suffering. I only have one request.”

“What?” Taveth demands.

“I want him to do it.” She points at the death knight. “Your kind killed my people. I deserve to share their fate.”

Koltira falters at the words, his own memories of Silvermoon coming to the surface.

Jorick looks between the two as the death knight hesitates. “Ana’s dying!” he says, annoyed. “If you don’t do it, I’m going to eschew her dying wish and avenge my shattered kneecap myself!”

Koltira purses his lips. “Any last words?”

“Yeah.” She tilts her head, pulling her hood back and pushing her dreadlocks out of the way. “Don’t miss.”

Koltira lifts Byfrost high, then brings it down hard on the olive skin of her neck. A light flashes, blinding everyone nearby as a wave of energy shoves them all backward away from the blood knight.

Alisbeth lifts her gaze, watching as though caught in slow motion as her friends fly back around her, but she remains untouched. Her eyes light on the sword that falls to the ground beside the kneeling woman.


	28. Chapter 27

The blood knight sets a palm to her chest; a golden shimmer surrounds her, and she breathes deep. Her hand finds the sword and wraps around the handle—which shimmers red at her touch. She unbuckles her helm and holds it in one hand as she spits and wipes blood away from her scarred mouth. The face she glares at them with is that of Alisbeth but marred by battle scars.

“Thank you, Koltira, for being a predictably blood thirsty death knight.” She turns her sights on Taveth. “Cousin. Why don’t you put that silly little dagger down before you take an eye out? We both know you’re not strong enough to wield something like that.”

Grimory blinks when the sparkles in his vision dissipate. His eyes widen and his lips part at the woman standing feet from him. An understanding swells in his mind. “That’s why you didn’t want to kill me,” he says, more to himself. His face softens and he gets back to his feet. “…and why you wanted me to go with you.”

Jorick looks up from the ground, arms still tight around the barely conscious mage. “Am I missing something?” he mutters, not making the connection.

“I didn’t want you to suffer the fate of the Illidari…or whatever they had planned for you in that cellar. I thought…it was a second chance.”

Koltira grunts. “Not this missed connection bullshit again.”

“Why are you trying to kill us?” Taveth demands.

“Because my employer wants me to. He brought me from the future to stop your meddling in his plans. In return I’m protected from any time-line changes and I get whatever I want.”

“You’re me,” the death knight Alisbeth says.

She sweeps her gaze over to her. “And you should be at the Keep.”

Grimory scowls at Koltira, then looks back to the scarred woman in front of him. “Who are you working for? What’s his name and where can we find him?” he says, pushing back the slew of other questions he has.

“You really think I’m going to betray the _one_ person who hasn’t tried to kill me in decades?”

Alisbeth silently moves closer.

Taveth stands, gripping his dagger tighter. “Here’s a better question: how do you even exist?”

“You bore me,” she growls. “Come on where’s the fight you had? Should I put my helm back on? Is it harder to kill someone you care about?” She casts her gaze directly to Koltira, her nose wrinkled. “You were supposed to kill me, were you not? You really thought I’d sit by and let it happen?”

“Ali, stop!” Taveth shouts.

The woman spins to come face to face with Alisbeth. She extends the sword between them, as though to stop the advance.

“If I touch you, I’ll disappear.” Alisbeth whispers.

She steps back. “What?”

“If I touch you, I’ll disappear,” she says more forcefully, her eyes wide. “Right? _Right?_ ” She pushes straight to the sword with her chest; the edge glows brighter and the sword vibrates in the woman’s hand.

“Ali, don’t!” Grimory steps forward to wrench Alisbeth away from the sword. He spins her to look at him and scowls. “Okay, I know you don’t believe me about the whole maintaining the timeline thing, but this is ridiculous! I don’t give a fuck how pissed you are at me, I’m not letting you do that, do you understand?”

“I wanna disappear,” Alisbeth cries. “I want to disappear! _I want to disappear!_ ” She struggles against him, reaching out for the other version of herself.

The scarred woman backs away slowly. “You…aren’t _me_. Who…”

“She’s the _real_ Alisbeth,” Taveth shouts. “You’re the imposter.” He creates a stone and holds it to the mage. “Ana, I know you don’t want to…”

She scowls at her cousin but returns her attention to her doppelganger, her eyes sweeping over the Illidari garb. “Wait…I remember you. You had a veil, but your clothes are the same. It was you? You’re that Illidari who stopped me in the hall at the Temple. H-how long ago was that?”

The death knight’s chin wrinkles and she closes her eyes. “I should have disappeared. If you’re here, I should be gone. Why didn’t it work?”

Koltira growls. “Ali, what the _fuck_ did you do?”

“Saved me from _you!_ ” The blood knight swings the Redblade around as he steps closer.

He pauses, brow furrowed. “From…me?”

“Did you make her like you? Huh?” she shouts, swiping the sword back and forth as he hops backward. “Eyes open, Redblade! Watch me avenge you and all our people!” She leaps at Koltira, bringing the Redblade down at him.

Having no weapon to block with, Koltira dodges sideways.

Grimory grunts but holds fast. “Ali, please. If she’s you, you have to convince her not to kill us, yeah?” He frowns down at her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, okay?”

Alisbeth shakes her head at Grimory. “I want to be her. I don’t want to be me.”

Anarchaia weakly pushes Taveth’s hand away and shakes her head. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have…even accepted the first one…” She looks up at Jorick. “Help Kolt.”

He shakes his head. “I have to keep you from losing more blood. Stop talking, all right?”

Taveth grits his teeth. “Tryx, get in there?”

<<Do I get to kill her?>>

He purses his lips, looking at the two versions of his favorite cousin, then down at the mage. He closes his eyes. “Yes.”

Koltira lurches forward to get the sword, but instead is met with the blade slicing into his side, carving into his ribs and cutting the straps holding his armor on. He cries out and stumbles back. “You think I’m a monster? Look in the mirror. What you did at the Botanica…”

“They all die within a few years, anyway. They were nothing but memories invading my _home!_ ” She takes a step to swing at him again, but a whip wraps around her neck.

She fights to stay upright, but sinks to her knees, then falls backward as the succubus pulls harder and harder, tightening her hold. the woman’s face flushes dark as she gasps and tugs at the coils cutting off her air.

Grimory shakes his head. “Ali, you don’t want to be her. She’s filled with anger—is that what you want? You’re fine the way you are.” His features soften and he lowers his voice. “Do you think Diori would want a mother like that?”

Alisbeth slaps at the demon hunter. “Don’t you bring her into this. And living versus being a _monster?_ Is that even a question?”

“You’re not a monster!” Grimory growls.

The blood knight flails, swinging the Redblade wildly behind her. The whip goes slack and she quickly uncoils it, ignoring the demoness curled over herself and shrieking into the ground. The woman stumbles to her feet and kicks Tryxora hard enough to send her rolling.

<<Master!>> Tryxora scrambles back toward Taveth, a bloody stump stretching out in place of her hand.

Taveth shoots to his feet. “Tryx! Fly!”

She leaps into the air, but the blood knight pulls her back down by the ankle and cuts one of the wings clean off.

“Your kind sicken me.” She takes the succubus by the hair.

<<No! _No!_ Master! Hel—>>

The doppelgänger lifts Tryxora’s head in the air. “One down.”

Taveth finds tears coming to his eyes at the sight of his demon dismembered. He takes a deep breath. “Hundreds to go.” He summons a handful of imps, some hounds, and Irtho’zyn. Two more succubi hop through the portal, hissing at the blood knight.

<<Our sister!>>

Her scarred sneer falls. “He _said_ you were the one to fear…”

“Who?” Taveth demands.

“I can’t…” She focuses on fighting off the demons—easily cutting through the imps and ignoring as the demonesses collect all the parts of Tryxora and drag them through the purple portal. “How do you have so many demons?” she grunts, dodging away from Keeshokin’s axe.

“They’re not even the ones you should be afraid of.”

“Don’t you do it!” Alisbeth, trapped in Grimory’s clutches screams. “Don’t you call him out! Leave her alone!”

Taveth sets his glare on Grimory, silently debating calling forth Spinewing.

The demon hunter returns the glare. “ _Don’t_ ,” he snarls. “She may be some alternate Ali but who knows what will happen if she dies!”

Koltira falls down beside the humans. He hisses and clutches his bleeding side. “How is she? Ana? Still there?”

“She was just talking a second ago,” Jorick says, not bothering to hide the worry in his voice. He shakes his head. “You’re worse for wear than her, friend.” He groans, feeling helpless. “Surely there’s some magicky shit we can do to help you? My blood. You do that, right?”

Koltira snarls at the wound, his shirt already nearly soaked with his blood. He shakes the mage. “Ana. Open your eyes. We need you to get us out of here. Ana?”

“Keeshokin, bring me _that_ Alisbeth.” Taveth points at the struggling death knight.

The felguard lands a lucky blow, his axe cutting partway into the blood knight’s side before her breastplate causes it to slip and it acts as a club, knocking her to the side. He then stomps to the elves and plucks Alisbeth up by the arm, dangling her over the ground so her feet kick at the air and she can’t get away.

The blood knight kicks at the hounds as they converge on her, biting at her legs. She takes the head of one and stabs the other in the shoulder. In her distraction, she doesn’t see Koltira limp over to get his armor.

“One last thing.” He reaches out a hand and a swirling red tendril runs from her to him, healing his wounds as she screams on the ground.

He pauses, contemplating going for the sword again, but changes his mind as the woman shoves to her knees, her strength only slightly diminished as she presses a palm to her wound and hacks her way through the small demons.

“Grim!” Taveth calls. “I’ll keep her occupied. Come on!”

Grimory growls at the chaos, suddenly uncertain of his loyalties. “Giver her to me,” he says, reaching for the death knight. Once she’s released, he throws the Alisbeth in his arms over his shoulder and ignores her beating on his back as he sprints to the humans. “Get up. Let’s go.”

Jorick wastes no time standing and following. “Where?”

“Just a ways down so those two can catch up. Or until Ana wakes up again. Whichever comes first.”

Koltira catches up, unfastening his cloak to wrap around the mage’s torso. He purses his lips at the demon hunter as it brings back memories of the man’s death. “Give her here. You’ll be faster without the extra weight.”

Jorick nods and relinquishes the mage.

Taveth stays behind a moment longer, staring at the patch of blood soaking the grass where the succubus fell. Thal’kiel finally floats down to watch the chaos of the woman screaming and cutting down demon after demon as more hop through the portal.

<<Our friends are getting away.>>

Taveth says nothing, listening to the screaming as a hound tears at the woman’s arm. It yowls and falls as she cuts it in half and kicks the upper body out of her way. She advances on Taveth, bloody and grunting.

“I made a deal for you,” she says just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re not on the list anymore, big brother. Please.” She dives down as Irtho’zyn lobs a green ball of fire at her. It ignites the tree beside her.

<<You killed Tryxora. No mercy!>> the demon booms.

<<No mercy! No mercy!>> the imps echo.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she begs, advancing on the high elf once more.

Thal’kiel teleports into her face and lets out a long, shrill scream, causing blood to drip from her ears.

“Taveth, please,” she screams, unable to hear herself.

<<They’re leaving,>> Thal’kiel says over the elf again. <<Move, worm!>>

Taveth turns and runs to catch up to the others, leaving his demons to slow the woman down. “She can’t fight them off forever,” he says.

Grimory turns as Taveth catches up. He frowns. “I’m sorry…about Tryxora,” he says as the group travels far enough to no longer hear the sounds of combat.

Taveth shoves the back of his hand to his cheek, wiping away a tear at the demon hunter’s words. “It’s fine. Sh-she wasn’t…the easiest to…” He purses his lips and focuses on the path in front of him.

Grimory furrows his brow and uses his free arm to pull the scholar into his side for a small embrace. “She may have been a pain, but she was reliable, yeah? It’s okay to cry.”

Taveth just nods, fighting back his tears, not wanting to look weak.

Alisbeth finally stops flailing on Grimory’s shoulder and just droops, silently crying tears that roll into her hairline.

Koltira continues gently shaking the mage in his arms. “Ana. Come on. Look at me.”

The mage stirs, her eyelids fluttering open only the slightest bit. She groans and curls up. “It hurts,” she responds quietly.

Koltira lets out a sigh. “Thank gods. Wait. Jorick, do you still have those potions? Please tell me you didn’t get rid of them. Unlabeled or not—”

A scream from behind them cuts him off. The party turns to find the blood knight stumbling after them, no minions on her heels and her body covered head to toe in blood.

<<If she killed Irtho’zyn…>> Keeshokin mutters, readying his axe.

“I thought you hated him,” Taveth says.

<<He owes me.>>

“I’m sure. He was pretty upset about…Tryx…”

Keeshokin gives the elf’s shoulder a gentle pat. <<We all are.>>

Golden light swirls around the blood knight and she picks up her pace as her wounds lessen.

Alisbeth scrambles to life. “I’m here! Come touch me! Just a finger!” She flails on Grimory’s shoulder, trying to get down.

Jorick shrugs and shakes his head as they pick up the pace. “Gave the last to Alisbeth for her hand and haven’t had any gold.”

Grimory digs in his satchel and pulls out a small red vial. He tosses it to Koltira. “It won’t heal completely but it’ll help some.”

Anarchaia takes the vial as it’s handed to her and drinks the small amount of liquid inside. She groans as the most superficial parts of her entrance and exit wounds seal. “Good enough,” she croaks and lifts a hand, the other still clinging to Koltira. The air sparks and whirls before a shaky portal appears, a vision of the barracks inside.

Taveth purses his lips. “I brought you several from Grim when Tryx and I…” He purses his lips and forces himself to remain calm. “I told you they were healing potions.” He sets himself beside the portal. “You guys go. I’ll be right behind you.” He opens another portal, sending another mob of imps to slow the woman down.

“No labels!” Jorick says and steps through before the warlock can respond.

Koltira doesn’t wait; he follows and moves out of the way for the next person. He ignores the high elf who stands from the large chair in front of the fire, cradling her infant, and lays Anarchaia out on the table. “Just hold on, okay? We’re going to fix you.”

“Wh-what happened? _Bae! Help!”_ Kel’ori rests the child on her hip. He looks around with interest, his body much older than three weeks of his age.

Baemalen sprints into the room, carving knife still in a hand, then cringes at the bloodied woman on the table. “Oh, Light. What’s happened to her?”

Grimory shakes his head and turns to Taveth. “No, here.” He sets Alisbeth down but keeps a hold on her. “You go. I don’t think she’ll kill me given the chance…I hope. I can fly back, yeah?”

Taveth grits his teeth. “Keeshokin, take her.”

<<I can’t go through without you.>> He calmly holds the flailing woman aloft by one arm.

“Grim, I’m not leaving you here. She said I’m not on the list. We’re both safe.” The portal flickers behind them. “Come on. There’s no reason for you to stay!”

Grimory’s eyes flit from the woman approaching them to the man beside him, then to the portal. He swallows as it pulses again, then shoves Taveth through.


	29. Chapter 28

Koltira unties his cloak, revealing the gaping wound in Anarchaia’s torso to the other mage. “That _bitch_ nailed her to a tree with her spear.”

“Wait, _that blood knight?_ ” Kel’ori shrieks. “She’s _alive?_ ”

“Unfortunately, yes. And it gets much fucking worse. But right now, we need to stabilize Ana.”

Kel’ori nods. “The medicine kit in the bedroom,” she says to Baemalen. “We might need a healer. Where’s Ven? He can take Bae to get one. I…don’t want to go back to Shattrath.”

Baemalen nods and quickly retreats into the other room to retrieve the kit. “The potions aren’t strong enough for a wound that deep,” he says with a sympathetic smile as he hands it over. “I’ll…see if I can’t find Vendormu.”

Anarchaia groans as though just hearing the words causes her pain. “I’m sorry, Kel,” she says weakly.

Taveth stumbles through, followed by Keeshokin with Alisbeth in hand; the portal pops closed behind them.

Koltira sneers as he hears the death knight’s shrieking. He turns around and rips her out of the demon’s hand. She falls to the floor and skitters away.

“You did this,” he booms. “Look!” He lifts her by the hair and shoves her to look at the hole in the mage’s abdomen. “You selfish _bitch!"_ He slams her against the wall as she beats on him. “Ven! _Ven!”_

“What are you doing?” Taveth asks.

“Her damned illusion caused this. He needs to take it off her.”

Alisbeth’s eyes go wide. “Wh-wh— No! Don’t take it! Don’t take it away! I’m pretty. Let me stay beautiful, please! _Please!”_

The human mage cringes and sits up despite the pain. “Kolt, stop!”

A quiet chuckle sounds through the room and Vendormu’s disembodied voice flows through the air. “My gods, look at this band of heroes. Broken and disheveled. Maybe I was wrong to trust that recommendation.”

Koltira snarls, ignoring the mage. “Show yourself. Or don’t, I don’t care. Just take away her illusion.”

Kel’ori tries to ease Anarchaia back down. “Stay down! Why is he so angry? What happened?”

“The blood knight,” Taveth says quietly from a corner. “It’s another version of Alisbeth. One who didn’t come back to Azeroth.” He grits his teeth at his cousin. “Excuse me.” He goes outside and around the house to the wood pile, where he sinks down and lets his tears flow freely for Tryxora. “S-stupid demon.”

“But the fact that she has it is making you so angry.” Vendormu materializes, leaning in the doorway and folding his arms. “And it’s just _so_ entertaining. Besides, can’t have more death knights running around. You’ll alert my brother more easily.”

Koltira’s nose wrinkles in his anger. “She _won’t_ be running around. Trust me. There’s _two_ of her out there already. And now she wants to touch the others. You want her to potentially blow up the universe? Or will you be agreeable just this once and take her illusion?”

Kel’ori frowns. “Take it away. Then we can tell them apart? Please?” She casts her sad eyes to Baemalen as he returns to the room. “Bae ask him. You’re his friend.”

Baemalen blinks and looks at the man beside him in the doorway. When they make eye contact, he tilts his head and pouts.

Vendormu rolls his eyes and Alisbeth’s illusion falls from her in a curtain of golden smoke. “Any other mundane requests?”

“Nope.”

Koltira drags Alisbeth out the door by her neck. She flails and escapes him several times, but he pulls her back and drags her around the side of the building. By the time he gets the cellar door open, his temper is at its height. He grabs her by the hair and throws her down the stairs. She tumbles down into the dirt, then gets up screaming as she launches back up the stairs. He kicks her in the stomach to get her back down, then jumps over the last stairs to grab her by the hair once more and drag her across the basement to a pair of shackles in the far corner. To get her to hold still, he wraps a shadowy scarf around her neck, which lifts her into the air and silences her shrieking. He grabs one flailing foot at a time and claps shackles around them.

“No! Don’t make me stay here!” she screams as she falls to her feet.

Koltira stomps away, shooting a threatening glare at Grimory. Then the door closes and the room is left in darkness, save what is flickering from the wood stove in the corner. Alisbeth sinks down, clawing her fingers through her hair as a panic rises in her chest. She slowly wails into her thighs like a ghost in mourning. Grimory, eyes wide, resumes chewing in his piece of bread once the doors close again. He pulls his ears back at the crying and swallows, opting not to say anything as the girl cries.

Kel’ori jumps as Koltira returns.

He looks around. “A healer. We need a healer.”

Vendormu shrugs and looks at Kel’ori. “If a mage with a hole through her gut can make a portal, I’d think a perfectly healthy one could as well…”

Kel’ori’s lips purse tight. “You really are the most useless dragon I’ve ever met.” She goes into the other room to find her cloak, planning out what to do with Bel’theas.

“If I could do everything myself without being discovered, I would. Not sure if you know how dragons work—despite me having said it so many times now—but within a certain range we can sense one another.” He shrugs. “Honestly I shouldn’t have gone to Shattrath the first time.”

Kel’ori sighs and returns to the living room. “Bel is due for playtime, anyway. She sets him on his stomach on the fur carpet and puts little wooden toys in front of him. “Don’t chew on them.” She kisses the top of his head. “Koltira, if he chews on them, just take them away. Please.”

Koltira nods. “I’ll do my best.” He looks down at the infant, noticing some have already been gnawed upon.

She casts her eyes to Baemalen and holds out her hand. “Please come with me?”

Baemalen blinks and his ears perk. “Oh! Sure!” He hesitantly takes her hand and the two are gone in an instant.

Vendormu gives a sigh and is again gone.

Kel’ori doesn’t let go of his hand, rushing through the crowd as an excuse to hold on. “We have to hurry. It’s a miracle she’s not completely unconscious. Uh…do you know where a healer would be?” She stops, turning to the man with her.

Baemalen nods. He leads her to the central structure where several alcoves line the inside. They come upon one filled with a few students listening to a priest read from a book. The elderly draenei man regards them with a tired, wrinkled smile.

“Our friend is gravely wounded,” Baemalen says, unaware that his fingers are still wrapped around Kel’ori’s. “Can you return with us to help her? We can pay you.”

He scratches at his beard and nods. “I will. Payment is not necessary.”

Kel’ori holds out her hand. “Thank you so much.”

He takes it and they disappear, then reappear in the hut.

Koltira’s eyes widen. “Does he use Light?”

“I…what?” Kel’ori stammers.

He wraps his hand through Anarchaia’s. “She’ll scream…a lot. But don’t stop healing,” he says to the draenei.

The priest lifts his eyebrows, then gives a small shrug. He sets a hand over the wound; the sensation causes the half-conscious mage to open her eyes, which turn to saucers. Her hand grips Koltira’s as tightly as possible.

“Kel, I think now’s a good time to tell you I’m—” She’s cut off by the sound of her own screams. Her body curls around the holy light as though trying to get away but having nowhere to go. When it’s finally finished after what feels to her like minutes, she collapses back onto the table with a dull _thunk_.

The draenei, clearly unsettled, turns to Kel’ori and regains his composure before clearing his throat. “Her spine has sustained some injury that will heal with time. She may not be able to walk for a day or two, but she will live.”

Baemalen shakes his head to relieve the ringing, his fingers sore from clinging to Kel’ori’s hand. “R-right. Thank you so much.”

Kel’ori, eyes wide on Anarchaia, ushers the priest back to her. “I’ll, uh, take you home.” When she returns, her eyes are just as wide. “You’re what, Ana? Undead?” She huffs over to ease a toy out of Bel’theas’s teeth. “A little warning would have been nice before we brought a _priest_ back!”

Koltira straightens. “We’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

Anarchaia groans and sits up, bones still vibrating. “Sorry. Wait—that doesn’t bother you?”

Baemalen blinks. “Undead?” He cringes. “Like death knight undead, or…?”

Koltira narrows one eye at the man. “Death knights can’t be mages. Do you have a problem with death knights?” His eyes dart to one side and then the other as he thinks about the time period they happen to be in. “Don’t answer that. You’ve every right to hate us.”

Baemalen holds up his hands. “Just trying to get my head around it. Not trying to offend.”

Koltira chuckles. “You’re fine. I was just gonna say if you have a problem with me…you know where the door is. We’re not the same as we were when Silvermoon fell. Trust me, I regret killing my comrades, but I had no control over it.”

Baemalen gives the man a sympathetic smile. “I can’t really relate, but I can sympathize. I’m sure it wasn’t fun. Having things…out of your control.”

“Meryl is forsaken. Why would it bother me? At least you don’ _t smell_ like it.” Kel’ori sits at the table with the infant on her lap. “How much of you is…there,” she asks awkwardly.

“Meryl isn’t actually undead,” Anarchaia says, then hesitates. “Uhm…well, technically most of me is still…mine. And I’m not sure if my eye is still in my stomach after twenty years so I’m counting that as well? Heh.”

“Is that why you wear gloves?” the mage asks.

Anarchaia nods. “And the mask.” She sighs. “I guess people aren’t as judgmental as they used to be. But I also guess that old habits die hard. Sorry.”

Kel’ori laughs uneasily. “I, uh, am glad you wear it?” She coughs awkwardly. “Forsaken make me queasy.” She glances at the conversing men. “Are we just leaving her here like yesterday’s dinner? Or can we…move her to the chair?”

Koltira nods to the man, then blinks at Kel’ori. “Is there something wrong with the table?”

“Well, we’re not experimenting on her, or eating her—”

“I can fix that.”

“Ew. So…I’d like my dinner table back. You heathen.”

“Oh. Uh. I guess that’s understandable. Heh.” Anarchaia flushes a dark scarlet and clears her throat. “A-a chair would…be nice.”

Baemalen laughs. “I like this guy even more. He’s got jokes.” He pats Koltira on the shoulder before turning back into the other room to pick up the gnawed toys.

Koltira lifts the mage and sets her in the large chair beside the tiger skin rug. He runs the cold backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I know I…kept my composure back there, but I really don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t okay. Besides kill that bitch.”

“Do it anyway. I’d love to help, actually.” Kel’ori sits herself on the carpet and sets Bel’theas in a sitting position beside her, on arm over him to keep him upright.

Anarchaia smiles up at him. “You know I’m harder to kill than that.” She turns to Kel’ori and frowns. “Oh. Uhm…it was…Alisbeth.”

Kel’ori nods. “I know. Taveth said that right before he left.”

“You’re okay with killing your cousin?” Koltira asks.

“She stole my son and broke my ribs. I’m pretty sure I don’t care at this point.” She smiles down at the infant blowing raspberries beside her.

Anarchaia watches the two with a silent longing, then sighs. “I don’t know. I think Grim may have had a point. We don’t know what could happen if we do.”

Baemalen hums and taps his chin. “Could throw her in the cellar with Grim…aaand now the other one?”

Koltira shakes his head. “He knows her face. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about _our_ Ali being down there to begin with. Once Grim is gone it’s not a bad idea. Ana isn’t taking him anywhere anytime soon, though.” 

“Do you think she’ll…tell him? Like, everything?” Kel’ori asks.

Anarchaia shrugs. “Even if she does, is he likely to believe her? She’s kind of…unstable at the moment.” She blinks. “Wait, why aren’t I taking him anywhere?”

Koltira gives her an unamused stare. “Oh, it might have something to do with your damaged spine? You’re not moving from this spot for the duration of your recovery.”

She frowns down at her boots, then bends to slide one off. Her brow knits and she bites her lip as she focuses on her toes. Two of them weakly flex and she smiles. “There. All better. I don’t have to sit around doing nothing, now, right?”

Kel’ori giggles at the other mage. “Not even. Just ask Bae how much he yelled at me for trying to do anything this week.” She looks up at the elf, a small smile on her lips.

Baemalen looks up at the sound of his name and returns the smile. “Oh. Yeah. I did. Nicely, of course.” He pats the younger mage on the head and smiles. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of reading material. And you can watch Bel if we go for supplies.”

Anarchaia groans and sinks into the chair. “I hate being useless.”

“Me, too,” Kel’ori says with a giggle. “How’s your magic? It’s how I coped. Oh! You can help me with dinner tonight! And then we can kick out the boys and just have some girl time?” She leans closer to whisper, “I really need some girl time. Paint our nails, do our hair, makeup…”

Koltira makes a face. “Yeah, count me out. Only time I’ve let someone mess with my hair was truth or dare. Ana braided it. It was the worst.”

The high elf giggles. “Well, then you and Bae can go outside or into the bedroom and do super manly things.” Kel’ori then looks at the two and purses her lips. “You need baths and clean clothes. And…new ones. Don’t worry! I still have plenty of fabric.” She waves her hand and a bucket appears and fills with water, which slowly steams. Soap flakes sprinkle in from a box in the corner. Then a brush dips in and sets to cleaning off the table. From the other room, some bolts of fabric fly in and hold themselves up to each person while a tape measure takes their measurements.

Anarchaia smiles. “That’d actually be sorta refreshing. I haven’t had my nails done since…” She shakes her head. “Oh! Could you make Jorick something, too? I’m not sure where he’s went but I’m sure he could use them.”

“I’ll go find him,” Koltira says. He kisses the top of Anarchaia’s head and goes outside.

“I’ve got a lot of fabric, don’t worry. The price was very reasonable.” A towel dries off the table and the silkier, lavender fabric lays itself out for chalk to make an outline for Anarchaia’s new robes. “What do you wear under your robes? You’ll need a new shirt or bra or…whatever.”

Anarchaia flushes and clears her throat. “I don’t, ah…wear anything.”

Baemalen gives another laugh. “I like her more, now.”

Kel’ori’s brow furrows. “Oh, I thought you wore a shirt. Okay. Easy enough, I suppose.” She smiles at the Illidari, then sends the measuring tape after him, even though she’d already made him a new shirt.

Anarchaia blinks. “Oh, I do. But it’s always the same shirt and pants.”

Baemalen swats at the measuring tape like a fly.

Jorick looks up with a jolt as a figure appears beside him. “Is she all right?”

Koltira nods. “Yeah. Just had to deal with the Light and her spine is damaged, but it will heal over time. Come on, Ana wants Kel to make you a new shirt. She has to violate you with her measuring tape.”

The man nods. “Good. Good.” He stands and gives an uneasy grin. “As much as I don’t mind being violated by a pretty elf, can’t say I’m much up for it...” He saunters inside. 

Koltira chuckles. “She won’t be doing the violating.”

“Oh. Even better.”

Kel’ori perks as the man walks in. “Oh, good!” With a flick of her wrist, the tape zips away from Baemalen and goes to take measurements of Jorick. She returns her attention to Anarchaia and purses her lips. “That…counts as under your robes. And I really don’t think it survived…” She looks pointedly at the hole in Anarchaia’s clothing, exposing a small amount of her stomach.

The human stiffens as he’s assaulted nearly a second after stepping over the threshold. “Uh…should I take the armor off for this?”

Anarchaia looks down at herself and frowns. “Oh, right.” She pinches the hole together and when her fingers come away the tears are sealed. “Good as new. Heh.”

“Yes,” Kel’ori says to Jorick. The tape measure stops and waits patiently in front of him. She then deflates at the other mage. “Oh. I guess I shouldn’t have wasted my fabric if you can just mend it.”

Koltira shrugs. “I still won’t say no to a new shirt.”

Jorick hesitantly removes his armor, eyeing the tape as he does so.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just sort of…out of it.” Anarchaia gives an uncomfortable chuckle, then frowns down at the bloody mess still soaked into her robes. “I’ll need a bath, though. Is there one here?”

Baemalen nods. “We repurposed an old trough we found out back and put it in the annex.”

“Would you like Bae to light the fire, or can I heat it for you?” Her eyes flit to Koltira. “It’s big enough for two, if you wanted to…help her wash.”

The death knight chuckles. “I don’t know. She gets mean when I take my clothes off.”

The smaller mage’s face turns red again. “Is it some sort of sport now to embarrass me? And how am I mean? Because I pull your hair?”

He narrows his eyes. “When there are others around and I can’t get you back for it.”

Kel’ori blushes and snickers. “I’ll get the bath water warming.”

Bel’theas accepts as she leans him onto his belly to wiggle his limbs around, learning how to use them.

Anarchaia purses her lips at him. “You didn’t _get me back_ at the inn?”

“Not nearly enough, no.”

Baemalen pretends he isn’t listening and lies down on the carpet in front of Bel’theas to watch him wiggle about. The baby squeals and blows spit bubbles at Baemalen while reaching for his hair. Baemalen pulls his hair away and instead offers his thumb for the infant to wrap his nubby fingers around.

“It’ll be ready in a…” Kel’ori smiles down at the scene on the tiger skin. “…a few minutes. Ana.”

Anarchaia crooks her mouth to the side and narrows her eyes at him. “Thank you, Kel’ori.”


	30. Chapter 29

The demons disappear from around the blood knight and she stops to stare at Grimory. After a moment of heavy panting, she collapses into the grass.

He goes to her and kneels at her side. He watches to see if she’s breathing. “Ali?”

The woman moans lightly, her breath rattling as her eyes peer around as though having trouble focusing. She coughs a small spurt of blood.

Grimory frowns and bends to pick her up. He finds a small alcove in the cliff side and sets her down. “Are you all right? Can you heal yourself?”

“I just need to gather energy.” She coughs up a little more blood. “Damn rib…punctured my lung.” She sets her palm to her chest and a weak sparkle of gold surrounds her. She coughs up the last of the blood and spits it into the dirt. Her breathing eases. “You should have left me.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I couldn’t. You don’t deserve death. I-I mean, what you did was pretty…morally questionable, but I know you don’t do it out of hate.” He drops to sit beside her. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to join us instead?”

She purses her lips. “You probably can’t beat my benefits package.” She gives a wry sort of chuckle.

He frowns and leans his head back on the rocky wall. After a long moment a sigh escapes him. “Did you have the baby in your timeline, too?”

She cocks her cropped eyebrow at him and chuckles. “I’m guessing it’s the same timeline up until— Y-you know, then? I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten rid of her when you made it painfully clear you wanted nothing to do with it.”

“No!” Grimory sits back up again. “No, I’m glad you didn’t! And I did want her! And _you!_ ” His green eyes find hers and his frown deepens. “I tried everything to find you.”

Alisbeth’s scarred brow furrows, deepening the lines. “I don’t understand. If you tried everything…” She takes a breath and sets her palm to her chest; another weak flash sparkles around her and the bites in her legs stop bleeding, though her other wounds continue to sting and seep into her clothing. “I named her after my mother. The same name I gave you when we met. I just didn’t want to be a Redblade for one damned person.”

“I know,” Grimory responds and pulls another small vial from his satchel. He hands it to her. “If you’d have given me your actual name, none of us would be here.”

She blinks at him. “Why do you say that?”

“Well. I may still be. But you’d be happy with the Grimory from your time. And Diori. Somewhere.” He sighs. “Not that I regret coming here…the first time, that is, but…”

The woman stares at him for a long time. Then she laughs. “From _my_ timeline? My timeline is the same as yours. The world didn’t change just because I apparently was supposed to return to Azeroth to die but chose not to. I’m not nearly as important as you think. Life moved on without me. I’m nobody.” She sneers and looks away from him.

He furrows his brow and shakes his head. “No, the Ali you saw is the Alisbeth from _my_ timeline. And the Grimory you had at the Botanica is me from the past. I’m saying that if we met in your timeline, and you gave that Grim your real name instead, you wouldn’t be here. I’m guessing. I’m actually not certain how badly _you_ wanted to be with _me_. I mean, you knew where I lived…”

She scoffs and shakes her head. “Did you never hear the stories about the times I tried to run away?” She chews on her lower lip and stares off. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You should go.”

Grimory sighs, then shakes his head. “Not until I’m sure you’re not going to die after I leave.”

She pushes to her feet, biting back a groan of pain. She drops the health potion back into his lap. “What does it matter to you? You’re just another target on my list, anyway.” She bends to take the Redblade and slowly makes her way out of the cave.

Grimory leans back and looks at her. He chews on his lower lip for a second. “Why not just kill me now, then, yeah? If I’m just another hit to you…”

She stops and stares off into the forest, her lips pursed. “Because I’m not ready for that. Not when you were so kind to me…a week ago for me, but a lifetime for you.” She sways and hisses at her remaining injuries, bracing herself on the rocky wall. “Perhaps I’ll find a way to make you hate me. Then it wouldn’t be so difficult.”

Grimory sighs and grabs her by the hand to pull her back to sitting beside him. “You aren’t ready to run off just yet. There’s no hurry. Just relax and heal, yeah?”

She stumbles lightly, catching herself before she falls against him. “Why do you care?” she demands. “I was brought back here to end all of you. He told me he believed in me. He’s my friend. All I’ve done is let him down and fail at every turn because he didn’t tell me it was _you_. Or Koltira or Taveth. The human man and Kel’ori weren’t supposed to be here at all. Especially not with some abomination of a baby. I knew Kel was a whore, just…” She purses her lips and looks away. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a very long time.”

He can’t help but feel a small pang of anger over the word _abomination_ but decides to keep it to himself. “You can talk to me. I don’t mind. And I care because, poor choices or not, you’re still the mother of my daughter. And what kind of father would I be if I let you die? Or treated you poorly?”

“I’m no one’s mother,” she shouts. “Stop saying that. Stop telling me I’m someone I’m not! After I left the Black Temple I became someone that you don’t know. Stop trying to take care of me or domesticate me or whatever shit it is that you keep doing. I’m not the woman you love.”

Grimory gives her a solemn look. He says nothing for a long while, then looks away again. “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just making sure you’re safe. Nothing else.”

“To what end?’ she demands.

“ _Why do you care?_ ” he responds mockingly.

She narrows her eyes and turns away. “If you insist on staying, maybe just don’t talk. You make no sense and now you’re just being childish.”

He smirks at her from the corner of his eye. “Y’know, once you get past the trying to kill my friends part, you really haven’t changed all that much.”

Alisbeth’s eyelids lower. “How fun.” She leans her head back, deciding to stop getting to know a man she’ll probably have to kill.

“ _Fun_ is not the word I’d use.” He looks away again, into the distant forest. “What made you choose this life instead?”

“Which life?” she asks. “The one where I decided not to go back to Azeroth because I was told Koltira would kill me? The one where I was the only one left alive after the slaughter of my comrades? Or the one where I’m here with you for the soul purpose of taking your life?”

He blinks at her. “The latter, I suppose.”

“Because I was offered…a purpose. He said he would protect me from any changes in the timeline and to settle down anywhere I want with a nice sum of gold. He upped the reward to give me anything I want.” She stares intently at him for a long, silent moment.

He grins at her, amused. “Oh, and you chose me?”

She glares at the floor between her boots. “I think I’ll just take the gold and the house.”

He laughs. “Probably a better idea, to be honest. I’m not really a prize. Not anymore, anyway.”

“I’ve just no interest in keeping a prisoner.”

He chuckles. “Thought I was keeping you here?”

“I’m talking about my prize. Which is obviously not going to be given to me until I finish my mission.” She keeps her gaze anywhere but on the man beside her. “I’d rather just…write you off the list or kill you, than keep you around, knowing you’ll spend every moment hating me and trying to escape. Where’s the joy in that?”

He shrugs. “I recall feeling pretty welcome and…intimidated at the same time. Granted a rotting Botanica isn’t a great vacation, yeah?”

“That’s my home you’re speaking of,” Alisbeth says curtly. “And in my time there was no one there. I dragged everyone from the Keep and the Botanica… By the time I got to the Mechanar the smell made me wretch… I had taken so long getting to the Arcatraz that…” Her chin quivers at the memory, and she clears her throat. “I was taking my friends out…one piece at a time…” She turns away from him as a tear escapes her hardened demeanor. “I wanted to welcome you into my home…”

He frowns, genuine sympathy in his eyes, then sets a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. And for what it was worth, you did a well enough job that I didn’t want to leave. Not right then anyway.”

She brushes his hand away and angles her knee away from him. “You didn’t want to be there, you just had no choice. I told you not to go near the foyer and you did. You were trying to find a way out. The only reason I’m not still laying in the forest… No, the only reason you defied an order to kill me…is because I look like someone you used to know. You’re only here now because you’re clinging to some idea that she and I are the same. But your eyes give you away. You don’t want to be here.”

The Illidari sighs heavily and lifts his hands. “Y’know what? Fine.” He stands. “Clearly you’d rather be with a Grim that tries to get away from you rather than one that actually likes you.”

She throws a rock at his back. “You don’t like _me._ You like _her._ Don’t you see? That’s why I’d rather you just leave. I’m not _her!_ ” she shouts. “But apparently you don’t like that version of me, either. Why else would she go out of her way to get away from you? Then again, she seems to be batshit crazy. Run while you can.”

He flinches, then turns to glare down at her. “You _are_ her!” He narrows his eyes and straightens. “Y’know, actually no. You aren’t. The _Diori_ I met was strong and independent but at the same time didn’t wallow in self-pity despite what had happened. She didn’t tell me to _fuck off because you don’t really care about me_ when I offered to fix her horseshoe.”

“Once upon a time I was!” she shouts back. “You’re so caught up in the past. Gods. You just make no sense. I’m not the Alisbeth you were holding onto earlier. The one that was screaming within your grip. I’m not _that_ Alisbeth. I am someone else entirely. _Now_. You want that banshee? Go back to her. If she’ll have you. But stop telling me that you care about _me_. You only care about the name and likeness I share with that woman. You don’t even want to get to know me. You just want me to be…what? A replacement for someone who is clearly broken?” She stands as well, determined to leave. “I should never have opened up to you. And actually, I regret ever meeting you. Maybe that’s what I’ll wish for, huh? Go back and fix my horse’s shoe. No slipped shoe, no farmboy.” She stumbles angrily from the cave.

He strides forward to grab her by the back of her armor and drags her back onto the floor. He points at her and lowers his voice to a hiss. “Let me make one thing clear before I leave you alone like you so desperately want.” He bends to sit on his haunches, glowering. “If you do anything that might even _insinuate_ my daughter being taken from me or not existing, I will chase you to the ends of any plane of existence.” He straightens again. “That goes for that _abomination_ as well.”

“There it is.” She heals herself one last time and stands. “There’s the hatred.” Her fist tightens around the handle of the Redblade. “Keep telling me you’ll kill me. Tell me you hate me.” She keeps her eyes on the back of his head. “I brought that girl into this world and I will remove her from it! I will erase myself from your past! I will erase _you_ from _my_ past.” Her eyes shine with tears, though they don’t fall. “And maybe my next stop will be erasing Koltira. Erase everyone I ever cared about. Then maybe I can erase this moment right here, where you refused me again, proving you’ve only ever been caught up on the girl you knew for one day and the fantasy of what might have been. I could have kept you for months and still you would only see that stupid little girl I was. You don’t see _me_. You don’t see _my_ pain.” She readies herself, unsure the temper he might possess. “No wonder she wants to disappear.”

He turns, a look of disgust and incredulity in his eyes. “ _Your_ pain? _Your pain?!_ ” He clenches his fists, fully aware of her readying to strike him. “You know what’s worse than losing your entire squadron? Trying for months to find the woman you’d thought you’d had a connection with, and when you finally find her she’s fucking lost all semblance of who she was—and not only that—she had a baby! _Your_ baby! That no one told you about because they thought you’d be a shit father.” He scoffs. “I’d lose my entire team if it meant getting a _taste_ of the life that was unfairly ripped away from me. And you accuse me of not caring. Clearly it’s you who doesn’t give a fuck, going out of your way to destroy your daughter out of spite alone.”

“I ran away!” she screams back. “I got to the fucking road of your farm when Tirion found me! He dragged me back screaming and crying. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted you to answer me _for once!_ I sent letter after letter and you didn’t care. You never responded to me, not once. I sent a letter the day I found out.” She chews on her lower lip and shakes her head. “And now you preach to me that I’m the one to blame. That I ripped some coveted life from you. If you’d wanted it so bad, you would’ve come to me when I sent for you. I never stopped sending letters until I watched my baby leave and I _knew_ in that moment that at least my uncle would show her how wanted she was. I didn’t leave my bed for weeks. You broke my heart. And yet here I am…dumb enough to try rekindling something that never existed.”

His scowl deepens and a small smirk touches his lips as his anger finally reaches a peak. “That’s not even close. Do you want to know what really happened?” He puffs a laugh through his nose and doesn’t wait for a response. “Your fucking teacher burned every one of them. Every time you tried to send for me, he threw it in the fire.”

She takes a step back as though he’d physically struck her. “You’re lying.”

He slowly shakes his head, eyes still fixed on hers.

She drops the Redblade into the dirt and slowly turns away. She stumbles deeper into the cave before falling to her knees and screaming out in anger.

He furrows his brows and pulls his ears back, a wave of guilt washing over him. He inhales slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I begged him,” she says, her voice forcibly remaining stead, though her tears have finally broken free. “Why would he do this to me?” She stares into the darkness for a long time, then swallows away the hard knot so she can speak. “If you could have anything you wanted…what would you choose?”

He thinks for a brief moment. “A family.” He cringes at his next thought but the words make it out anyway. “A normal, happy family. But I couldn’t have that, so now I just strive for glory and honor.” He lifts his gaze to look at her. “What about you?”

“What if I could give you that normal, happy family?” She looks over her shoulder to meet his gaze, not caring that he can see her tears.

Grimory purses his lips. The possibilities run through his mind and he frowns. “I can’t leave the Diori or Alisbeth I have in the future. And I don’t think I can bring you with me. But if you have an idea I’m all ears.”

She tests her words carefully. “If…you never had them to begin with…you wouldn’t miss them.” She looks away, half knowing he’ll refuse her and not wanting to look him in the eye when he does. “If I went back and fixed it. Gave you one of the letters or brought you to where I was… None of this would have ever happened. Neither of us would know the difference.”

His brow knits again, at first offended. He looks away and folds his arms. _My friends. All the adventures we’ve been on. Illie. Bae_. He runs a hand over his mouth. “Help us. And I’ll consider it.”

She stands and turns to implore him. “Grimory, if I change everything, then none of this happens. None of us will be brought back here. No one will have to die.”

He shakes his head and turns to look at her. “The dragon. He could stop us. He could reverse all we do…unless we kill him.”

Alisbeth steps to him. “The one who brought you here. You need to get rid of him. You can get closer than I can.”

He shakes his head. “He needs to bring my friends back. I can’t abandon them here.”

She holds out her hands for him. “But they won’t be here if we change it all. They’ll be fine and safe somewhere else.”

He glances from her hands to her face, then takes one of them in his own. “I don’t think that’s how it works. Ven said changes won’t take place until we go back.” He sighs and runs a thumb along her fingers, avoiding her gaze. “What a mess.”

“We could make a deal. His life in exchange for the others? I could take you to my employer.” She takes a nervous step closer. “If that’s the life you truly want…”

He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again and observes her. His brow knits slightly. “What is it that _you_ want?”

“I want what has been robbed from me my entire life… A family. _My_ family.” She sets the leather of her glove to his cheek. “We can fix everything.”

Grimory sighs through his nose as he looks into her face. _Say what you have to to get what you need_. “If we can find a way to get my friends back to their time while still completing the mission, I’ll stay here with you.”

She nods insistently. “If those are your terms, I suppose I’ll have to accept.”

A small smile plays at his lips and he nods. “All right. So you’ll give me at least an inkling of information?”

She smiles cautiously. “Information? What kind of information?”

He pauses. “I don’t know what that dragon has been telling you, but he’s here to make sure Sargeras succeeds. If my friends are going back to their time and I’m staying here, I want their time to remain safe, yeah?”

Her smile slowly falls. “You said you’d give anything for our family.”

He nods. “Yes, but your end if the bargain is my friends get home safe, yeah?”

The woman frowns. “Then send them home. Tell them you killed me, and that the dragon has withdrawn. I’ll figure out a plan…”

His face pinches slightly in a frown. “I can try…” _Vendormu will know it’s bullshit. But if I can just get her to the outpost_ …

“Do you have a better idea?” She takes his hand and sets it to her own cheek, closing her eyes at the warmth. “Why do you care so much about a future we’ll be erasing?”

He sets the tip of his thumb just below her lip and gives her a pensive look. “We aren’t sure their futures will be erased. Just ours.”

Alisbeth tips her head to rest her lips on the tip of his thumb but doesn’t kiss it. She closes her eyes. “I’m not sorry to say that it’s a risk I’d be willing to take. I believe the future you know will change. They wouldn’t even remember us. Possibly each other, if we’re what brought them together.”

He frowns, again reflecting on all their adventures and the times he himself has spent with them. “I’m sorry but it’s not a risk _I’m_ willing to take.”

She turns away from him. “I see.”

Grimory _tsk_ s in frustration. “Do you want me to stay with you or not? Surely you understand where I’m coming from, yeah?”

Alisbeth shakes her head as though trying to clear it. “I want…” She inches closer, until she’s nearly pressed against him and tilts her head to meet his gaze. “Us. Why is there no compromise within you?”

He furrows his brow upward, unmoving. “I know I seem heartless, but they’re my friends, Ali. I can’t let them suffer because we want to be together.”

She furrows her brow upward. “It’s not heartless. I just… I think about my cousin here—both of them—and I realized they are probably only here because I—because _that…me_ is here. They don’t belong in this environment.” She steps away and purses her lips at his reaction to her closeness. She goes quiet in thought.

“Maybe not. But Ana and the rest have done a good enough job protecting them.” He steps forward to again grab her hand. “Maybe you could talk to…whoever you answer to.”

She nods, fixing her gaze on his hand around hers. “I should. He might have ideas.” She lets out a heavy breath. “I’ll meet you right here in this cave, noon tomorrow. If you don’t show up, I’ll… Have my answer.”

He smiles endearingly. “Okay. Noon it is.” He gives her hand a tug, pulling her lips into his.

She presses into him, savoring every second of their kiss. She breathes in his scent and greedily holds him for more.

He pulls away after he’s satisfied and gives her a gentle gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t stand me up,” she says, a soft smile on her lips.


	31. Chapter 30

The Grimory in the basement swallows his sip of water, eyes still fixed on his new cellmate as he leans back against the wall. “So, uh…what’re you in for?”

Alisbeth peers at him with one eye, then hides her face behind her arm. “She’s here because of me…”

“Who?”

She squirms. “You’re…uh…the Gr— _one_ I’m not supposed to say things to. Aren’t you?” She pulls her legs tighter. “But I want to tell you. I don’t like keeping secrets from you.”

Grimory watches her as he thinks, unsure of what to make of her words. “You can trust me.”

“I know. I know I can trust you,” she whimpers. “But not _you._ But…” She tugs at her hair then smacks the back of her head with a fist. “Don’t say a word. No. _No._ I trust you, Grim. They don’t trust me.” She whimpers and adjusts her position several times, eventually settling on facing the wall, still hiding her face from him. “I told her not to go… Now she’s killing us.”

He tilts his head. “Who?” He repeats, unsure if even he can make heads or tails of what she’s saying. “And how do you know me?”

“The woman.” She growls and whines. “I can’t tell you. I’m not supposed to tell you. Don’t look at me.” She peeks at him again. “The blood knight lady. Did you meet her? She wants to kill everyone.” She goes quiet for a long time. “She’s going to succeed.”

He furrows his brow. “You really think she’ll succeed? I mean, she could barely hold her own against those four, yeah?”

“M-maybe I just…want her to help me disappear.” She wipes her cheek. “You should kill her. I bet you could do it. Maybe you should.” Alisbeth buries her head in her knees. “But I don’t want you to kill me,” she whispers.

He blinks slowly again in the dim light of the furnace. “I’m not killing anyone. And why do you want to disappear?” _Despite being clearly kinda loony_ …

“Because of you.” Alisbeth frowns and gently reaches for him but sees her pale blue hand and pulls it back. “I used to be so pretty.”

He frowns. “I made you not pretty?”

She shakes her head furiously. “No. No. You made me… She’s here because of you.”

Confusion continues to swirl in his head, but his curiosity urges him to continue questioning her. “What did I do?”

“Not yet,” Alisbeth whispers. “Not…yet.”

Grimory gives a quiet groan and leans back again, silently deciding to give up.

Alisbeth looks over at the Illidari and sighs, then whispers something into her elbow.

His ears perk. “Hm?”

She chews on her lower lip as she stares at him. “Nothing. Shouldn’t have said it. You don’t want it.” She blinks at where the door is. “I’ll keep you safe when you sleep, okay?”

He smiles gently, holding back his joking demeanor. “Yeah. Thank you. And if you feel you want to divulge…”

Alisbeth shakes her head more insistently. “You don’t want it. Not from me. I just… You don’t want it.” She fidgets with the chains around her ankles, finding where they link to the wall.

“Tell me.”

She tugs against the chains, testing how well they’re bolted into the wall. She grits her teeth. “I said I… y--…” she mumbles quietly, under the rattling of the chains.

Grimory sighs, now completely giving up. “I’d release you if I had the keys. The blond girl has them.”

“I know. We gave them to her. She’s supposed to take care of you.” She turns to him with wide eyes and a sweet smile. “Did she take care of you? We don’t want you to get hurt.” She gives up on the chains and crawls toward him. “I’ll kill her if she hurt you. Did she hurt you?” She reaches out for him again, not recoiling at her own skin this time.

Grimory’s eyes flit between her outstretched hand and her face. He shakes his head. “She didn’t hurt me. She was pretty petty, but she didn’t hurt me.”

She stares at her ignored hand, then at him, then back at her hand. After a minute, she pulls it back. She slowly curls back up to press her forehead to her knees. “I don’t want to be down here. Not with you.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even know you. But you keep refusing to say how you know me.” He sits back and folds his arms.

“You will,” she assures. “You _will_.”

He furrows his brow, then brings a knee up to rest a wrist on it. “If you say so.”

She throws herself sideways and growls, wanting nothing more than to tell him everything, but resisting the temptation. Alisbeth chews on her lower lip and looks at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m gonna talk to you anyway, okay? Don’t tell on me?”

Grimory, his pride still hurt, looks over at her through the darkness. “I won’t tell,” he says quietly.

“They should have taken you home. It’s not fair.” She pulls on the chain again. “If I can break these out of the wall…I’ll take you home. Okay?”

He nods. “Thank you. Why are you being so nice to me?” He jumps when the door opens again and Jorick returns to wordlessly set a second tray of stew and water near him. He looks back at Alisbeth when they’re alone again. “Are you hungry?” He narrows an eye at her ghastly appearance. “Or are you…?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t eat. But I can cool your food down if it’s too hot!” She holds out her hands and grins encouragingly.

After a second, Grimory stands and sets it as close to her as he can get, then slides it the rest of the way, curious.

Alisbeth reaches out and holds the bowl long enough for the steaming to calm. She gives it a quick stir, then scoots it back to him. “I hope I didn’t get it too cold. I held it as long as I do for Diori.”

He drops the spoon back into the bowl and looks up at her. “…What did you just say?” he asks quietly, eyes wide.

Alisbeth’s eyes go wide. “Um. I… Uh…” She grabs at her hair, furiously pulling at a clump as her fists slide down one after the other. “I hope it’s not too cold? Is it too cold? I did it wrong, oh no.”

Grimory’s brow knits and he stands. “No. That name. What name did you just say?!”

She backs up, her eyes wide. _Just tell him._ “I’m not supposed to,” she whispers to herself. She shakes her head. _It won’t hurt anything._ “Shh!” She presses into the corner and shakes her head. “Do you n-not like that name?”

“How do you know Diori?” he demands. “Where is she? What’s her real name?”

Alisbeth’s eyes shift side to side. _Too late now._ She thinks fast anyway. “Do you mean Diori Deathweaver? I don’t know where she is. Lost a lot of people in Silvermoon. Yep.” She nods emphatically. “She could be dead…”

Grimory pauses, then sighs and sinks back to the floor. “Sorry. I thought you were speaking of someone else. At least now I hope you were.”

She nods. “Who were _you_ talking about?”

He stirs his stew halfheartedly. “A woman I’d met. A while back. I thought we had something but…I was never able to find her again. Called herself Diori.”

She runs her thumbnail along her lower lip. “Maybe something kept her from you.”

“Maybe.” Having suddenly lost his appetite, the Illidari retreats to his wall and sits, leaning against it. “Maybe not.” He closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, again resisting telling him the truth about everything. She waits a long time until she thinks he’s asleep. “I said…I love you…” She sniffs and turns to bury her face into the corner.

~ * ~

Koltira sets the mage on the floor beside the tub and gently removes her boots before trying to get her robes off. He chuckles as it bunches beneath her buttocks. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a difficult time undressing you.”

She chuckles embarrassedly. “Here, I can—” Her fingers grasp the front of her robes and she pulls them away from herself as though they were simply draped over her shoulders. They solidify again when she tosses them to the floor. She undoes the button of her shirt and looks down at her useless legs. She sighs. “There are people who live this way,” she says, “and I can barely stand half an hour of it.”

He smiles softly at her as he lowers her into the hot water. “I’d be here helping you whether it was just this half hour or for the rest of your life. At least I know you can’t run away from me when you finally realize I’m a mess.” He kneels outside the trough.

She sighs at the warmth and leans her head back, then turns it to face him and smile. “You’d really deal with this forever? Carrying me everywhere. Helping me bathe.” She blinks. “You’re not joining me?”

“Does the lady insist?” Koltira asks, splashing water at her chest.

She smirks and closes an eye as water splashes into it. “Oh, we’re doing this?” She tilts her head. “The lady commands.”

Koltira laughs and strips, then slides in behind the mage so she can lean against his chest. He wraps his arms around her and just holds her for a long moment, his eyes closed and his face pressed into her shoulder.

She leans her head back to press her cheek to his. “And you aren’t a mess, by the way. Even if you were, I’d have still been attracted to you when we met all…those…” She blinks and furrows her brow. “Oh my gods. It’s only been a year.”

He hums into her collar. “Not long enough. Need more time.”

She laughs and brings an arm up to idly toy with the tresses on the back of his head. “It feels like a lifetime. And to think we haven’t even spent a Heart Day together yet.” Images from the previous _Love is in the Air_ festival suddenly come to her mind and she frowns, flushing. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“What did you do last Heart Day?” Koltira asks. “Mine was awful.”

A pang of panic strikes through her. _Oh gods, I was with Grim. But we weren’t together at the time so it’s fine. No, don’t tell him that._ “Nothing fun. Just…the ball with Master like every year. Always hate it. Heh.”

“Mmm. Well, this year you can be with me and hate it.” He takes the washcloth and rubs it down with soap, then gently begins working at the blood on her chest.

She hums a laugh in the back of her throat. “I don’t hate anything I do with you. Even when we fight.” She looks down once the dried blood has been washed away and leans back to point excitedly at the scar right below her ribcage. “Look! We match, now!”

The death Knight laughs and turns her so he can kiss the scar. “It’s just as beautiful as the rest of you.”

She flushes and brings a hand up to drop water onto his head and down his face. “Then I get to say that about you, hm? Yours is just as beautiful as the rest of _you_.” She runs a finger up the deep scar on his chest.

“Oh, so, it’s hideous and you only look out of politeness and the curiosity preventing you from looking away.”

“That’s not it at all,” she retorts, pursing her lips.

He gives her another quick snuggle, then straightens to wash her back. He lifts her by the waist and bends to kiss the twin scar on her back. Koltira pulls her back into an embrace and purses his lips. “I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve heard it. I’m sorry.”

She frowns and leans her head back to look at him. “It’s not your fault. We were all talking and she’s incredibly stealthy.” She holds out her hand for the bath brush. “Trade places with me.”

Koltira lifts her and spins her to face him, sitting her on his lap. “Don’t you dare refuse me my moping. I’ll be upset all I want for your current condition.”

She grabs a lock of his hair and runs soap through it with her fingers. “I’ll deny you anything I want, sir. Especially telling yourself lies.”

“Is there any way for me to win this argument?” the death knight asks.

She giggles quietly and shrugs a shoulder as a globe of water presses itself into his sudsy hair. “Well. You can just do as I say. Or you could keep me from arguing somehow.”

“Well, this one always works.” He presses his lips to hers and locks her in a long, passionate kiss.

~ * ~

Jorick blinks around the room from his hammock. “Uh…wasn’t bookwormy warlock with us when we got back?”

Baemalen’s ears prick. “Uhm. If he was, I didn’t see him.”

Jorick steps out of the sleeping quarters to find the blond mage busy with fabric in front of the fire. “Have you seen your brother? I swear he came back with us.” He pauses. “I think.”

Kel’ori only glances up from the pinning of a shirt as Anarchaia’s new robes hover over her head being sewn together. “He went outside. Need something?” She looks up again, this time at a clock behind him. “Crap! I’m late starting dinner!”

Jorick nods. “I can help with that if you’d like,” he says as he steps out into the chilly night air. He saunters around the building until he finds the scholar seated near the back. “Hey. You holding up okay?”

Taveth jumps and turns his puffy, red eyes on the human. He opens his mouth to speak, then sighs and just shrugs.

Jorick blinks before his face softens. He drops beside the elf with a sigh. “Anything I can do?”

Taveth shakes his head. “Take back the past twenty-four hours? How’s Ana? I should have stayed. She’s my best friend, but I…”

Jorick sets a hand on his shoulder. “She seemed fine. I guess her legs won’t work for a bit, but she’s all right.” He grins. “And she’s not the type to be upset over something like that.”

He smiles and nods. “You’re right. Heh. Perhaps I should go see her. See if she needs anything.”

He leads the human inside to find a frazzled Kel’ori surrounded by clothes that keep dipping low before rising back up, a cauldron of water refusing to get on the hook over the fire, and Bel'theas whimpering impatiently as he slaps at his mother’s bosom. She jumps as they walk in but doesn’t bother to fake a smile.

“Oh, you found him.” Her tone betrays the drain on her energy.

Jorick quickly strides across the room to secure the cauldron on its hook. He huffs from the strain after he’s released it and gives Kel’ori a look. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Taveth nods in agreement. “Finish the sewing later.” He takes his nephew so she can compose herself and stand.

Bel'theas pouts and immediately starts wailing.

Jorick sets himself at the table and takes the floating knife before it can fall. He resumes cutting the vegetables and shakes his head. “Glad I’m not a parent,” he mumbles.

Baemalen looks up as Kel’ori enters the room and smiles. “Finally going to sleep?”

Taveth follows with the screaming infant.

Kel’ori shakes her head. “Just resting while I feed Bel.” After Taveth leaves, she casts a small smile to the man. “I’ll understand if you leave, too.” She sets about feeding her baby.

Baemalen shrugs and leans back in his hammock. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you usually do,” she says in a teasing tone.

Baemalen gives her a small smirk. “Pretty used to it at this point.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that woman being alive,” Kel’ori admits. “My cousin, but not… I don’t feel safe here, that’s for sure. What if she comes back for Bel?”

The Illidari lifts his eyebrows, then smiles across the distance between them. “We won’t leave him alone ever again, okay? And if I have the chance, I’ll kill her for you.”

The mage smiles. “I’d like to help.”

“Good, you’re stronger than me anyway.” He rests his head on his palms. “When he’s finished give him to me. You need to sleep.”

Kel’ori purses her lips at him. “It’s not even sunset and I have to take Grim’s food to him. Don’t be silly.”

He sits up again to look at her. “We have people here to help with that, now. Don’t make me make you.”

Kel’ori makes a face at him. She flicks her wrist and his hair lifts and swirls around his head. “I’d like to see you try.”

Baemalen flails and untangles himself from his own tresses. “Using my weakness against me? I’d thought better of you.” When he’s finally free, he throws his hair back over his shoulder and stands. “Regardless, I’ll send someone down with food. You relax.”

~ * ~

Anarchaia runs fire-covered hands around her hair to dry it as he’s carried from the washroom. She blinks at the men in the foyer. “Oh, Taveth. Where have you been?”

Taveth goes to the chair as Koltira sets her within. He grabs her in a hug. “I’m sorry. I just…needed to be alone. How are you feeling?

The mage returns the hug and frowns when he pulls away. “Alone? Why? What happened?”

He frowns. “Oh. You were unconscious. Um.” He rubs his palms on his trousers. “I lost a lot of demons…” He goes to say more, but decides he just isn’t ready to say it out loud. _You’d think I’d be happy…she’s out of my hair, now._

Anarchaia frowns and takes one of his hands. “Oh, Tav. I’m so sorry. They don’t come back when they are defeated?”

Taveth shrugs. “We’re not on Azeroth, nor in our own time. I’m really not sure what will happen.”

She squeezes his fingers with her own. “I’m here if you need to talk.” A sad smile crosses her lips. “I’m not going anywhere for a couple days anyway.”

Taveth nods and scoots the mage over to sit with her. “Is now okay? I’m not sure I want talk much… I, uh, just hope she comes back.” He leans his head on the mage’s and stares at the fire. “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

Anarchaia frowns and brings up a hand to pat his cheek. “Everything will be okay. Even if she doesn’t, you’ll always have the memories with her. And look, Grim died off-world—on Argus, no less—and he came back.”

Taveth tentatively smiles. “I hope you’re right. Didn’t think I’d miss her this much.”

Still combing his locks with his fingers, Baemalen saunters into the next room. “Would one of you mind sending some of that down to Grim?” he says, gesturing to the boiling stew over the fire.

Jorick looks over from the worn tapestry he’s admiring. “It’s not done yet, but sure. I can.”

The small mage wraps the elf in a hug, her cheek to his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Tav. We’re here for you.”

The high elf nods. “Your hair smells good. Did you take a bath?” He straightens. “Is there a real bath here?” He looks around the room as though finally looking at it. “Where did all this stuff come from?” His gaze finds the matching table and chairs, complete with kitchenette filled with expensive china. “Definitely Kel’s taste…” He eyes the tiger skin rug. “Not that, though.”

She nods and chuckles in response, a slight blush in her cheeks. “Maybe tiger skin is more Baemalen’s taste. They must have made a trip to Shattrath. If you can get me into the washroom I can heat a bath for you?”

Taveth laughs. “I…don’t think I can get you in there. Where’s Koltira?”

Anarchaia perks and looks around. “Oh. Uh. I didn’t see where he went.”

When the stew is ready, the mercenary fills a bowl and, along with a flagon of water, sets it on a tray before making his way outside. He kicks the tool through the handles and bends to open them. Before he can, the doors fly open and Grimory leaps through them.

“Woah, there, friend,” Jorick says as the tray is knocked from his hand. He grabs the escaping Illidari by the ponytail before he can get too far and tosses him back down the stairs. “No one said you’d be unchained.” He descends the stairs, then lifts an arm to block the incoming punch. He sidesteps the second one and again grabs the elf by his hair.

Grimory grunts in pain and grabs at the human’s wrists. “How are you so fast? Let me go!”

When the elf’s foot comes around to try and trip him, Jorick lifts his own to lock their ankles together and bring Grimory to the ground instead. “Years of practice.” He drags the Illidari to the wall and, not without a struggle, secures the shackles around his wrists. “Though you should really consider cutting that hair of yours. Would have been a lot harder for me. Now I have to go get more food for you.” He turns his green eyes on Alisbeth and straightens. “How are you faring?”

Alisbeth sneers at the human and jumps to her feet. “How dare you hurt him!” She launches at the human, but falls short as the shackle chain goes taught. She falls to the floor and scratches at the dirt, grunting angrily. She throws a handful of dirt at his chest. “Let him go! We’re done with him! You can let him go, now!”

Koltira leans into the door, arms full of firewood. “Ali! Shut up and get in the corner.”

“Fuck you!” She throws dirt at him, but it just smacks onto the stairs.

“No thanks. Now stop screaming. And don’t talk to Grim.” He eyes the mess of food on the ground, steps around it, and goes back inside.

Alisbeth pushes up to her knees and frowns at Jorick. “I was being good, though. Can I come out now? Can you remind him I don’t like the dark?”

Jorick blinks slowly after Koltira, then back down at Alisbeth. He sighs and wipes the sediment off his shirt. “After that stunt, little miss? I’m not so sure. I’ll be sure to pass the message on, though.” He turns and ascends the stairs to retrieve the bowl and flagon, bringing them back inside to refill. “Alisbeth says to remind you she doesn’t like the dark,” he drones when he passes Koltira.

The death knight stops as he’s brushing bark off his shirt. “And?”

“Ana says there’s a bath,” Taveth blurts.

Jorick shrugs, taken aback. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Anarchaia clears her throat between the tension. “Can someone bring me to the washroom so I can heat some water?”

Koltira purses his lips at the human. “She’s not coming out until we’re going back home. I don’t care what anyone says.”

“Wasn’t going to tell you to,” Jorick mumbles as he prepares another bowl of food.

The death knight smiles down at Anarchaia. “Do I count as someone?” He lifts her into his arms as Taveth moves for him. “Why, though?”

“Because I want an actual bath,” the high elf says. “You two don’t get all the fun.”

Anarchaia flushes at the scholar. “Fair enough? Heh.”

Bel'theas looks up at the Illidari as he returns to the room. He hums and smiles as he wiggles against his sleeping mother, who hadn’t even covered herself before falling asleep.

Baemalen picks up the small baby, then flushes as he readjusts Kel’ori’s brassiere. He sighs and sinks to sit with the infant. “What are we going to do with her, huh?”

Jorick, hiding his jealousy well, brings a couple bowls into the next room, then blinks. “Oh, she actually decided to sleep.” He sets her dinner on the barrel near her hammock.

Baemalen nods. “Not without a fight.” He chuckles and sets the sleeping baby beside him on the floor. “Thanks.”

“So how are you two getting along?”

The elf flushes as he chews a bite of stew. “Well? I guess?”

The human smirks. “That’s good.”

Baemalen clears his throat. “Yes. Very good.”

Koltira laughs and waits for the mage to finish. “I’d say we could have some fun when all these living souls go to bed, but…can you _feel_ from the waist down or is it just completely numb?”

She pinches at one of her calves then smiles up at him. “Like ninety percent.” Her eyelids lower and she smirks. “And trust me, even if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t deprive you of anything.”

He narrows his eyes. “It’s no fun if you’re not enjoying it, too.”

She tilts her head. “A lot of my enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoying it.” She bites her lip. “That face you make…”

Koltira narrows his eyes. “I don’t make a face.”

Taveth coughs from the doorway. “Sorry. Just…waiting.” He fidgets with his fingers. “Don’t worry, I just got here. Heard nothing.”

The mage jumps and blushes. “If you didn’t hear anything, you wouldn’t feel the need to tell us you didn’t hear anything,” she mumbles, then lifts a hand at the basin in the next room. Steam slowly rises soon the surface of the water. She turns back to Koltira and lowers her voice. “And you so do. It’s my favorite.”

Taveth shakes his head insistently. “No no. I just know you two say private things in private…” He thinks over his words and shrugs. “I was just warning you I was here.”

“I believe him,” Koltira says. “For now.” He takes the mage back to the other room. “Enjoy.” He sits in the large chair and settles her on his lap.

“Enjoy being the definition of useless?” She folds her arms and rests her head on his shoulder.

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “I was telling Taveth to enjoy, but way to make everything about you.” He gives a playful chuckle and kisses her forehead. “Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

She purses her lips. “Oh. Yes. I hope he enjoys, too.” She blinks then sits up after his last statement. “Wait what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut up and kiss me.”

She narrows her eyes then does as she’s told anyway.


	32. Chapter 31

“Out,” Kel’ori demands again.

Taveth makes a face. “But they don’t need me for—”

“Out! We’re having girl time.” She grins at the other mage.

“I’m always invited to girl time,” he complains.

“Bae, drag my brother by the ponytail, if you have to?”

Baemalen chuckles as he steers Taveth toward the door. “I think Kel could definitely use the girl time.”

Anarchaia chuckles nervously. “Get along, please!” she calls after the men.

Jorick gives a tired eye roll. “Never.”

Koltira claps Taveth on the back as they turn for Falcon Watch. “Sorry, buddy, this time it’s anatomy and not personality. Besides, we’re taking you to a tavern.”

Taveth makes a face. “But. Without Ana?”

“I’m offended that I’m simply not enough friend for you.”

Baemalen perks. “Oh yes. Tavern. Then firewood. Then maybe the tavern again.”

Jorick lifts his eyebrows. “Something tells me you have a thing for alcohol.”

“Yes. I find it’s an excellent coping mechanism.”

“I won’t ask.” Jorick shrugs. “But you aren’t wrong.”

Koltira nods. “I find it really helps get past the images of my kin being ripped to shreds or cut down by my own hands.” He smirks at the high elf as though he’d said a joke.

Taveth frowns. “I don’t need a coping mechanism.”

Both Baemalen and Jorick audibly scoff. “It doesn’t have to be life changing to require coping,” the latter says.

“Could have just been a bad day,” the Illidari adds.

“Really, you don’t need an excuse to drink,” Koltira says.

The elf squirms. “Just…don’t let me go overboard, like you usually do.”

The death knight holds up two fingers. “On my honor.”

“I’m making no such promise,” Baemalen says with a wink and a nudge. “Maybe they’ll have a few ladies for you to peruse, eh?”

Koltira glances sideways at Taveth. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves…”

~ * ~

The high elf grins at the woman across from her and motions for her new collection of makeups and nail polishes. “Take off your gloves. We’re starting with nails!” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

The smaller mage undoes the buttons at her shoulders and slides her gloves off. “Where did you get all this?”

Kel’ori shrugs absently. “Oh, you know, trading and whatnot in Shattrath. Pick a color!”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes. “…Blue, please.”

Kel’ori picks an icy blue. “For Kolt’s eyes? Hmm? Or…” She lifts an intense lavender with a metallic hue. “Hnnh?” She bites her lower lip mischievously.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Heh.” Anarchaia hums in thought. “That _is_ very pretty. Do you think it’ll go with my eyes?”

Kel’ori lets out a long snerk from her nose. “I was…trying to tease you. But, I mean, if you actually like the color and aren’t choosing it to match _someone else’s_ eyes.” She shakes the bottle of purple and gives her a wicked smile.

Anarchaia’s brow knits the smallest bit. “Who would…? What are you trying to imply?” She stiffens and flushes. “You think I like your brother?!”

Kel’ori’s eyes widen. “I— Y-you _said_ you did! Did you just mean as a friend? I thought that’s what you were saying, was that you _like_ him. Like, like-like him.” Flustered, she quickly puts back the lavender and grabs up the blue. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful about believing what you tell me.”

The human fumbles over words, equally flustered. “N-no! Well yes, but no!” She groans. “I-I mean he _is_ really cute and definitely my type, but there’s, like, a list of other criteria that would have to be met for he and I to…t-to…”

Kel’ori, playfully angry, throws the bottle at the other mage’s chest. “Fine. Whatever. No need to get so defensive! But for the record, you said you _like_ him.” She picks through the colors, deciding which one to use for herself. “So, what criteria doesn’t he meet?” she asks casually.

Anarchaia sets the bottle aside and uncorks the top. “Uhm. Well. I’m with Koltira, for one. And he’s not into…” She glances up, unsure how much Kel’ori knows. “…me. A-and he doesn’t seem too interested in the kind of relationships I am.” She sets to work on her nails.

The high elf rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. “Oh my gods, Ana, just say it. My brother likes _Eophen_ and would rather read a book than bone. He’s…quirky like that, I guess. You and Koltira, though… You’re lucky you’re not living because you’d just never stop being pregnant.” She giggles and selects a green for herself, insisting in her mind that there’s no underlying meaning for the choice.

Anarchaia flushes furiously and fixes her gaze on her work. “Maybe that’s what I’d like,” she says quietly, inspecting a nail. She clears her throat. “What about you? If you could be with anyone you wanted, who would you choose?”

Kel’ori pauses, then chooses to focus on the comment rather than the question. “You…want children?”

She blinks. “Yeah. I always kinda have.” She smirks and looks up. “And I thought we were having girl night. You’re not gonna answer my question?”

“I’m sorry… About the kids thing.”

The other mage shrugs a shoulder. “It’s all right,” she lies.

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “I’m a mess since… You know. So it’s not really something I think about. For now, I think just being there for Bel is best.” She gives a small smile and her cheeks turn a shade of pink when she thinks about the way Baemalen cares for the infant.

She frowns at what Kel’ori says next. “Right. How could I forget. Sorry.” She lifts her finished hand to look for mistakes and smiles. “Never thought I’d miss having fingernails so much.”

“You don’t have fingernails?” She asks, slightly taken aback.

Anarchaia quickly retracts her hand back to herself. “Oh. U-uhm. No. Not usually…”

Kel’ori waves her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that!” She finishes her left hand and waves it in the air to dry the polish. “So, how are you and Koltira doing now, anyway?”

She blinks up at her as she starts on the other hand. “Fine, I suppose. He was a little moody when we first arrived here…and he’s been pretty jealous of Jorick, but still very happy. Why?”

“Just wondering! Just making conversation. Do you really think I, of all people, have an ulterior motive?” She giggles dismissively and starts in painting the other hand.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes again. “Yes, I do.” She smirks. “So how are you and Bae? Getting along well I assume?”

The mage unintentionally perks and smiles at the mention of the Illidari. “Really well. He’s so good with Bel. And not because he has to or anything. He genuinely likes spending time with him. Bel _adores_ him. It’s so nice not being alone here.”

The smaller mage smiles at the genuine happiness in her voice, then sobers as a thought hits her. “Have you told Archmage Kalec, yet?” she says quietly after a moment.

Kel’ori swallows and frowns as she pauses, the brush hovering over her nail. “I…wasn’t able to get to the Hall.” She purses her lips and closes her eyes for a moment. “He never came looking for me. I assume he would have found me if he had.”

Anarchaia frowns. “He’s busy a lot. I’m sure he just trusts you enough to be out and about without checking in. If you don’t tell him, though…”

Kel’ori frowns deeper. “I…will tell him. When we get back.”

Anarchaia nods. “Good. I’m sure he’s worried about you.” She finishes her second hand and again inspects her work. “I have a random, personal question.”

Kel’ori laughs off the pressure of the subject of her mentor and re-wets her brush to finish her hand. “Well, I just may have a personal answer for you. What’s your question?”

She inhales in preparation. “Who. Is. The biggest man you’ve been with?” She pauses. “Emphasis on man.”

“Oh. Uh…” She thinks on it. “There was a human in Stormwind. Good size, but low, eh, stamina.” She giggles and puts the polish away. “You?”

Anarchaia also giggles, then taps her chin. “Definitely Grim.” She pauses while replacing the cap to her polish. “But Taveth would be a close second. I-if I’d ever been with him.”

Kel’ori chokes on her water and fumbles, spilling the liquid everywhere. She spits out what’s in her mouth and falls into a coughing fit. She takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes. “Wh- _what?”_ she gasps out.

Anarchaia stiffens, face red. “ _N-nothing! I promised I wouldn’t look so please forget I said anything!_ ”

“Oh, no no no. You are spilling _everything_. Now.” She summons a towel over to dry herself off.

The human fidgets and sets the polish aside. “U-uhm. You have to swear to me you won’t tell him I told you.” She scowls over at her, then looks down at her fingers when Kel’ori nods. “I…helped the guys bathe when we were staying in the cave.” She clears her throat. “He’s, uh…impressive.”

“Like he’s secretly got muscles?” Kel’ori flinches, completely appalled by her own attempt at skirting around the subject. “Gods. I can’t believe I’m… What do you mean by impressive?” She squints her eyes closed and shakes her head slowly. “Augh, do I even want to know…?”

Anarchaia hums in thought. “Well. If Grim is about ten, Tav has to be at least…eight? Maybe nine?”

Kel’ori laugh outright. “Now I know you’re just messing with me. There’s, like, no possible way.”

The smaller mage’s eyes flick away for a second and she blushes. “I mean…I’ve seen quite a few… _weapons_. I know what big is.”

“Gods. Don’t make me… Was he actually… You know what? I don’t want to know. So, eyeshadow?” She holds up two of her palettes and does her best to smile, though it’s painfully fake.

Her red pupils flick between the palettes and Kel’ori’s face. “No. He wasn’t. Purple?”

The high elf cringes. “Man, why did I even start the question. Gods. Take the damn purple. Ew. Oh, gods, why my brother.”

She giggles, now only amused by the other’s embarrassment. “We can talk about someone else if you’d like? Your choice.” She holds up the makeup. “I may need help…”

“I can do that, of course!” Kel’ori says, grasping at the distraction. After a long time working obsessively on the shadowing of the mage, the elf bites her lip and gives a shy smile. “You know…I’m actually really good with charms.”

Anarchaia, eyes still closed, lifts her eyebrows and smiles. “Oh yeah? That’s good.”

She presses her lips together. “Particularly, uh, love charms?”

Anarchaia’s eyes suddenly light with interest. “Oh. That’s impressive. I can’t do those. Uhm. Why are you telling me this?”

Kel’ori smirks at her own idea. “Well…I could do one for you.”

She blinks, doing her best to hide her curiosity. “Anybody?” She cringes at herself then shakes her head. “N-never mind. I-I have Koltira. I don’t need anyone else.”

Kel’ori giggles. “Yeah, but, a little variety never hurt anyone.” She dips a small brush into a liquid grey make up. “And yes…anyone. At all.” She gives Anarchaia a meaningful look. “Close your eyes.”

Anarchaia thinks about it for a long moment, a look of turmoil in her features. She closes her eyes. “That’s illegal, anyway,” she says almost as an afterthought.

Kel’ori gasps melodramatically and sets a hand to her bosom. “Oh, no, I forgot that it was illegal to charm people _on Azeroth_ and that we could get into huge trouble _if we get caught!_ ” She shakes her head and begins lining the undead’s eyes. “Thank you for reminding me that there’s no way I could possibly do it.” She finishes the grey line and caps the liquid. “You’d do Taveth, wouldn’t you?”

Anarchaia’s eyes shoot back open. “T—” She pauses, then clears her throat. “Yeeeah, Taveth. Heh.” She shakes her head again and gives the other mage a reserved smile. “I’m not an unfaithful person, Kel. I appreciate the thought, but I wouldn’t feel right.”

Kel’ori shrugs. “You don’t seem to be consistently happy, though. But have it your way.”

She bristles. “No relationship is _consistently happy_ ,” she responds. “That doesn’t mean you just have an open ticket to cheat.”

“I said have it your way,” Kel’ori says on a shrug. “And I never said cheating, either. It’s like you’ve never heard of a threesome.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen the smallest bit at the thought and she flushes. “K-Kolt would never agree to that.” She pauses. “I don’t think.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask,” she says.

The image of Koltira’s cold yet angry face enters her mind’s eye and she frowns and fidgets. “I guess I’ll never know. Do you have any white mascara?”

Kel’ori purses her lips as though wanting to say more. “I don’t, actually. Kind of an odd choice. Not sure I saw any in the shop in Shattrath.”

“Well I think I’d look odd with black lashes.” She pokes at her leg to test the feeling. “Why don’t you use your charms on Bae?”

Kel’ori finds her medium grey mascara and takes the brush from the tin. She swirls the bristles through the packed, gel pigment and furrows her brow. “I don’t…” She sighs and brushes the color over the white lashes of the other mage. “I don’t think there’s one strong enough to make him like me like that.”

Anarchaia looks up at her curiously. “Why not? He already seems to like you. You guys were clinging pretty tightly to each other at the Botanica…”

“Ana…who else would I have been able to turn to? I was scared. He was just nice enough to let me use him for comfort.”

Anarchaia shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. He seems pretty into you. Why else would he help raise someone else’s baby?” She purses her lips at the thought. “Speaking of which, Bel seems to have grown on Grim, too.”

“Bae likes Bel. It shouldn’t matter how he feels about me. If that was the only reason he takes care of Bel, he’d never have started… And I’ll break a bottle of polish over his head for toying with Bel’s emotions.” She gives a heavy sigh and shakes her head. “As for Grim… I don’t want him around Bel. I think we all know the real reason for the sudden connection.”

“Guess I can’t reason with you over Baemalen, but Grim…I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Bel seemed to love him, too. Maybe you could keep him away for a while but ultimately that should be Bel’theas’s decision.” She furrows her brow slightly. “What reason do you think Grim has?”

“Ana…he didn’t want anything to do with Bel and then in one instant he suddenly cares? You don’t think it might be a more…demonic reason?”

Anarchaia blinks, then lifts her eyebrows. “You think Spinewing cares about the baby?” She brings a finger to her lips to think. “That certainly is…unexpected. But I know Grim. I’m sure he cares. Even if it’s just a little.”

“I’m trying to limit any…bad influences in Bel’s life. That includes demons. No Tryx, no Spinewing. It’s all I can do to not snatch him away when Bae sings those songs…” Kel’ori starts in on her own makeup. “How long do you think they’ll be gone?”

Anarchaia sighs in defeat. “I suppose that’s fair. And I’m…unsure. A few hours? Sick of my company already? Heh.”

Kel’ori pauses to purse her lips at the other woman. “It’s already been over an hour. That’s why I was wondering. Speaking of Grim…where is he?”

Anarchaia pauses, only now just realizing. “Oh. Uh…he didn’t come back with us? I must have been too preoccupied to notice. He must be still distracting Ali.”

“He should be killing her, not distracting her. She’s not even supposed to exist.” Kel’ori finishes her makeup and goes to the mage to add color to her cheeks. “You make up nicely. I know you usually wear a mask, but you could still rock some lipstick.” She selects a soft pink lipstick to apply to Anarchaia’s lips.

“We don’t know what’ll happen if she d—” She stops talking and flushes the smallest bit as the other applies the color to her lips. “N-not much goes with blue skin. Heh. I couldn’t pull it off as well as you.”

“ _Plenty_ goes with blue. Darker blue, lighter blue, purple, green, grey, black, white… Seriously, you could do so much. I think white would look best with the robes I made you before. Just gotta experiment.”

Anarchaia places a hand on her cheek and chuckles embarrassedly. “Maybe. I’m not as knowledgeable as you, either. But I could try.” She looks down at her painted fingers, then sobers. “Thanks, by the way. I think I needed this. After…everything that’s happened in the last year.”

Kel’ori sighs and smiles brightly. “Trust me, so did I. Wearing makeup after not feeling well for the past few months… It just makes me feel like me again. Oh! And…” She waves her hand and the newly finished robes float into the mage’s lap. “I’ll make you a matching mask later, when you need it.” She holds out the lavender, silky item to Anarchaia.

The smaller mage’s eyes light up as she lifts the garment up to look at it. “They’re beautiful! Ugh, if only I could get up to put them on,” she laments, admiring the laced bodice and satin-like layers. “Thank you,” she says, hugging it to her chest.

She waves her hands. “It’s fine! You’ll be able to put it on in no time. Right?”

Anarchaia smiles and sets it on the table beside her, neatly folded. “Yeah. If that priest was right, anyway. I really ought to repay you somehow.”

Kel’ori shrugs and waves her off.

~ * ~

Koltira grunts and drops the two large firewood bundles beside the pile outside, being careful not to drop Baemalen from his other shoulder. “Don’t worry. I can handle my liquor. Oh, no, this isn’t too much,” he complains, yet again. He jerks his chin to Jorick, who is carrying a third large bundle as well as Taveth. “We really should have stol— _borrowed_ that wagon.”

Jorick nods and awkwardly stretches his back after dropping his own load of tinder. “Would’ve made the trip a lot easier. Honestly surprised the bookworm handled as much as he did. The kid weighs less than the firewood.” He chuckles and makes his way inside.

“Oh my gods.” Kel’ori’s eyes shoot to the door as Koltira enters with the Illidari and Jorick with her brother. “What happened?”

Koltira chuckles. “They had _way_ too much.”

Jorick nods and sets Taveth down in one of the spare hammocks as Koltira puts Baemalen in another. “All talk and no liver,” he says as he turns, then stops as his eyes fall on Anarchaia.

“What?” she says, brow knit.

“I’ve…never seen you wear makeup. You look nice.”

She flushes and turns away. “Oh yeah. Guess I forgot I was wearing it. Thanks.”

Koltira lifts the mage into his arms and sits in the chair with her on his lap. “Mine,” he says, nuzzling into her.

Kel’ori waves a hand in front of her face. “I can smell you guys from here.”

Anarchaia gives a sheepish, crooked smile and wraps her arms about his neck. “Yes, yours. How was your trip?”

He stares at her as though hypnotized, then blinks. “You look beautiful.”

Anarchaia smiles, cheeks darkening. “Thank you.” She chortles. “How much did you guys drink? Are those two even alive?”

Jorick cannot help rolling his eyes at the two. “You expect four guys to be in the same vicinity as a tavern and not go inside?” he says to Kel’ori, unbuckling his armor.

The high elf rolls her eyes. “It’s actually quite easy. But that’s not the point. It’s the _amount_ you all had.”

“Enough to not feel feelings,” Jorick says as he sits in the vacant hammock at the end. “Though the red head had enough to not feel _anything_.”

Kel’ori purses her lips, but nods. “Yeah. Bae does that.”

Koltira chuckles. “Bae insisted. Then he tried to keep up with me…while encouraging Tav to keep drinking. Taveth threw up and complained, then passed out. Bae followed about half an hour later—without the vomiting.” He sets the pad of his thumb just below her bottom lip. “I want to kiss you, but pink isn’t really my shade.”

Anarchaia chuckles at the story, then smiles and tilts her head the smallest bit. “How would you know if you’ve never tried putting it on?”

He makes a face. “I’m pretty confident it won’t look good. Looks amazing on you, though.”

Anarchaia places a kiss on his cheek, then looks and chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not your color.”

Koltira laughs and kisses her. “Guess there’s no turning back, anyway.”

Jorick leans back against the wall and rests his head in his interlaced fingers. “That demon hunter drinks like he’s trying to meet the devil.” He gives Kel’ori a slightly intoxicated smile. “What would a guy have to do to get some hot water in that basin in the next room?”

The high elf smiles back at him. “Ask nicely and promise not to drown?”

“I can’t make any promises about the downing part. Not much of a strong swimmer. But if you’d be so kind…”

Kel’ori stands and goes to heat up the water. “Okay, but, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”


	33. Chapter 32

Grimory ducks into the cave as soon as he’s sure it’s noon. He squints his eyes into the darkness. “Ali?”

The dragonhawk flies down to hover in front of the entrance behind Grimory. “Don’t call me that.” The woman removes her helm and smirks at him from its saddle. “Just making sure you didn’t bring the rest of them to ambush me.” She studies him, her eyes squinted in the light of high noon. “So, shall we, then? I’ve got it all set up. I take care of Vendormu and your friends will be taken home, then we will go and fix our past together.” She holds out her hand for him.

He hesitates and looks at her. “Your boss will take my friends home after you’ve killed his brother?” he asks, slowly raising his hand.

She nods. “That’s the deal. Why? I did tell you this is what he’d say.”

“I know. Just…reiterating.” He takes her hand and climbs into the saddle with her.

“Did you speak with them?”

He swallows and nods. “Yes. They…weren’t thrilled. But I told them you’d leave them alone of they let us do this. They seemed okay with that.”

“Really,” she says suspiciously. She puts on her helm. “Okay, then. Is he at that hovel in Hellfire, or is he hiding?”

“The last I saw of him was at the outpost in Hellfire. I can’t promise he hasn’t gone anywhere between then and now, though, yeah?”

She turns her head to look at Grimory over her shoulder. “Can I actually trust you?” she asks as they take to the skies, heading back to Hellfire.

He knits his brow. “If you didn’t think you could trust me then why did you come back?”

She doesn’t answer for a long time. “Did I make a mistake?”

Grimory sighs. “I’d like to think not, but your trust was never really easy to obtain, anyway.”

“ _I’d_ like to hope you want this, too, and aren’t lying to me. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “You’d really kill me? Knowing that our daughter is waiting for me back home?” He _tsk_ s. “Cold.”

The woman shrugs. “Then don’t deceive me.”

He cringes inwardly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They reach the barracks; she lands Strombreaker behind a hill and pats at his beak. “You be good. This won’t take long.”

He gives a small purr of a sound and settles in the sand.

She turns to squint at the building, studying it. “The others are gone?”

He pulls his ears back as he observes from a distance. “I don’t see a fire in the bedroom. It seems like it.”

She looks over at him. “Really?” she scoffs and shakes her head. “They’re in there, aren’t they?” The blood knight takes her spear from her back and holds the blade up to his neck. “Are they? Grimory? _Huh?_ ”

He tilts his head away from the blade and scowls at her. “I don’t know. I told them if they were smart they’d leave. I can’t make them do anything.”

“Do it anyway,” she demands. “Go inside and clear out your friends. I don’t care how you do it. If I go in there and anyone but the dragon is waiting for me, I will not hesitate to take them out. No matter who it is.” She pulls the spear back the slightest bit. “Give me a reason to trust you. I want to trust you, Grimory. Don’t be like all those who came before.”

His glowing green eyes flick from her face to the outpost then back. He nods. “All right. I’ll see what I can do, yeah?” He pushes away from her spear and sets out over the hill. When he steps inside, he gives the group a solemn nod in greeting.

“Grim! I’m glad you’re all right. How did it go? Where is she?” Anarchaia says with a curious smile.

He hesitates and lowers his voice. “Ana, that mind reading thing. Do it on me, yeah?”

She blinks, then nods and beckons him over. When he bows his head, she takes both his temples in her palms. After a minute he pulls away and she furrows her brow. “Are you sure?”

He nods.

She sighs and looks at Kel’ori. “Kel, how good are your environmental illusions?”

The high elf looks up from her infant playing on the tiger skin. “They’re, uh…decent? I think? Why?”

“We need to make this place look empty.” Her form is enveloped in a purple cloud and when it dissipates a copy of Vendormu is sitting in her place. “She’s coming to kill him.”

Kel’ori’s nostril’s flair. “You spent an entire _day_ with that _bitch_ and she’s _still alive?_ ”

Koltira glares from the corner. “I know it’s Ali and all, but she wouldn’t think twice about killing one of us. And you brought her here?”

Taveth’s face pinches in anger and sadness. “She killed Tryx.”

Kel’ori frowns. “Wh-what? That’s where she went? Oh, gods.”

“Hide us,” Koltira insists. “I’ll do what you won’t.” He stares pointedly at the Illidari.

Kel’ori takes a breath and closes her eyes. Everything in the room puffs out of existence. A small commotion of it settling in the next room echoes down the hall. Then the others vanish from sight.

“I assume we’re invisible now?” Koltira’s disembodied voice asks.

“Yes,” Kel’ori hisses. “Now be quiet and hold still. Grim, go fast. I’m not sure how long I can last.” She cradles Bel’theas close, frowning at his presence. “Stay quiet, my love,” she whispers.

“If I’d have killed her, our only lead on the other dragon would be dead,” he grumbles to himself and steps outside. He rushes back over the hill. “They’re gone. Like I said. Only he remains.”

She takes her spear in one hand and the Redblade in the other. “This should only take a minute.” Grimory follows, but stands just outside, not wanting to see the look on her face when she realizes he’s betrayed her. Once inside, she pauses, peering around the room. Koltira holds perfectly still as she nears where he stands.

“Strange. First you hide from me and now you await your death almost eagerly.” The woman nears the chair, head tilted in suspicion.

Anarchaia grins, doing her best to mimic the dragon’s mannerisms. “If I was ever hiding from you, I assure you it wasn’t out of fear.” She gives a half scoff, half laugh. “Do you really think you stand a chance against a member of the Bronze Dragonflight?”

“You flatter yourself in thinking you’re my first dragon.”

Bel’theas peers around the room, and, seeing that he’s being ignored, begins gnawing on his toy. The blood knight stops, her ear twitching at the sound. A board creaks in the doorway and her head tilts.

“You seem to have an infestation… Rats, perhaps?” Her fists grip tighter around her weapons. “Or maybe—” She spins around, striking out with the tail of her spear and buries it into Koltira’s thigh.

The death knight cries out and Kel’ori’s concentration breaks. She groans lightly and slumps sideways, her energy near spent. The room’s illusion drops, revealing the people hiding within.

The woman’s teeth grit together as her brow scowls beneath her helm. “He…”

Baemalen quickly presses to Kel’ori’s side to keep her upright. The blood knight’s body goes rigid and she grunts as she attempts to move again, golden magic shimmering around her.

Vendormu phases into existence, arms folded and a smirk on his handsome face. “My, we’ve caught ourselves a sneaky little mouse.” He turns to Anarchaia. “Very impressive by the way. Though I have three earrings in my left ear, not one.”

The mage curses quietly and her form melts back into her own. “You choose the most convenient times to show yourself.”

He shrugs. “Surprises are my favorite.” His icy eyes turn back to the woman. “What to do with you…”

“Kill her,” Kel’ori says weakly against the Illidari.

Koltira straightens and rips the Redblade from her grasp, then sets it to her throat. “That’s two votes for your head,” he says, sneering.

“Three,” Taveth murmurs, as though partly ashamed he can even say it.

Vendormu holds up a hand. “No. Not yet.” He steps across to her and gently eases the blade down with a finger while removing her helm, then smiles. “Where is my sweet brother?”

She sneers and spits in Vendormu’s face. “I’d rather take the blade.”

He clenches his eyes shut. The saliva shimmers as it evaporates from his skin and he slowly opens his eyes. “Put her in the cellar,” he says with a smile.

Koltira clenches his jaw and lowers the Redblade. He rips her helm from the dragon’s grasp and shoves it onto her head. “The second he’s done with you…”

“You’re pathetic, Deathweaver,” she hisses. “You always were. I’m glad I never went back. I should have put you in your place back in Eversong, too.”

He balls a fist and sends one into her throat, causing her to choke on her own voice. Without letting her recover, he grabs her by the hair. “Vendormu is the _only_ reason you’re not already dead. You are _not_ Alisbeth. You have no honor in your black heart. You’re just an insect compared to the woman you were. The _real_ Alisbeth is a thousand times the woman you could ever hope to be.”

She tries to speak, but only rasps painfully.

Taveth purses his lips from the doorway. “I agree. You’re not my kin.” He turns his back on her and goes to the room of hammocks at the end of the hall.

Jorick releases an apprehensive groan from the depths of his throat. “Harsh.”

Grimory gives the elf an apologetic frown as she’s dragged past him. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “but I can’t let you destroy the family I have now. Or my friends. And I can’t let your dragon buddy let Sargeras come to power.”

Alisbeth’s face twists and she jerks her head to look anywhere but at him.

“She won’t be talking for a while,” Koltira says.

Unable to contain the rage as everything the woman had done to them plays through his mind, he throws her down the stairs, as he’d done to the death knight before. As though defeated, the blood knight doesn’t move when she hits the bottom.

“You shouldn’t…throw people,” Alisbeth hisses from her corner.

“If I wanted your advice, I’d still ignore you.” He drags the woman to a pair of shackles on the other side of Grimory, where the two Alisbeth’s can’t touch.

“She could break,” the death knight presses in a sing-song manner. “Don’t wanna break her. Do you?”

“Yes, actually, I do,” Koltira shouts. “If it was up to me—”

The blood knight laughs maliciously into the dirt. “Temper, temper, Deathweaver,” she rasps out.

“What would your superiors think?” the Alisbeth in the other corner finishes.

He sneers at each in turn. “Fuck you both.” He stomps up the stairs and shuts them back inside.

“I’d like to unmeet that bastard,” the blood knight says, rolling onto her back. She removes a glove and presses her cold fingers to her neck.

The Grimory in the cellar presses his arms closer to his chest as he looks at the two. “Well. At least we have more company,” he grumbles.

The death knight giggles. “Welcome to the pit of despair. We spend most of our time not talking to each other.”

The blood knight peers over at the frosty blue eyes, trying to discern any distinguishable features in the dim light. “Who are you?”

Alisbeth curls into her little ball and peers over her arms at the woman that could have been her. “I think you know who I am.”

“Unfortunately…” She coughs and sits up to brush the dirt from her clothing and in her dreadlocks.

“Well at least you two know one another,” Grimory says moodily.

The death knight frowns. “I know _you_ , Grim.”

“Believe it or not, so do I,” the other rasps. She sets a small heal on her throat and clears it. “Sorry I didn’t protect you,” she says.

Grimory sobers and sighs. “Guess I’m the only one in the dark, then. Metaphorically. And…it’s all right. Don’t be sorry.”

The blood knight stares intently at him, then reaches to unclasp her helm.

Across the room, Alisbeth shakes her head. “Don’t.”

The woman drops her hand and closes her eyes. “I’ll fix everything, Grimory. I promise.”

He sighs and takes a drink from his dwindling supply of water. “Whatever you guys say.”

“I wish you trusted me like I trusted you.” The blood knight leans back and stares up at the floorboards.

Grimory frowns. “Not sure what you mean, and frankly I’m kind of tired of this merry-go-round of questioning. So…I guess I’m going to sleep.” He turns away and closes his eyes.

Both women glance at each other, then look off into the darkness.

~ * ~

Vendormu paces a couple times, tapping the small patch of hair beneath his lip. “How to make her talk,” he muses.

Anarchaia grimaces from her place on the chair. “Kindness? Maybe?”

Jorick gives her an annoyed glance. “How can you be so forgiving? She nearly paralyzed you forever.”

She shrugs. “Just…how I am. I guess.”

“The only thing that…” Kel’ori sighs, her eyes drifting closed.

Koltira enters the barracks and stares at the others. “What are we talking about?”

“Trying to figure out how to make Alisbeth talk,” Anarchaia says to the death knight.

“I can think of a few ways,” Jorick responds, cleaning his nails with the tip of a dagger.

“Unlike in death, she wasn’t one to let secrets slip before. Most of the things I learned about her were after her death and she lost her filter. Very private person. Her birthday is the only secret she can keep now.” Koltira folds his arms and leans against the wall near Anarchaia. “You did good.”

She gives a tired, grateful smile. “Thank you. And…perhaps I can talk to her? Maybe reason and logic will get her to talk?”

Vendormu scoffs. “That ruffian probably doesn’t know the meaning of those words. But I’ll try anything at this point.”

Koltira purses his lips. “That woman is a mystery to us all. It’s worth a shot.”

Anarchaia nods. “When I can use my legs again, I’ll go talk to her. For now, maybe you should keep away from her,” she says, a nervous smile on her lips.

Vendormu gives a heavy sigh. “Right. Well, let me know if that works. Otherwise the job will be the death knight and the bloodthirsty mercenary’s.” His form shimmers out of existence.

“Grim or Taveth, maybe,” Koltira muses. “She went out of her way to not hurt either of them.”

Anarchaia cringes. “She’s probably not too thrilled with Grim at the moment.”

Koltira gives an apathetic shrug and slides down the wall to sit. “Well, then, not him.”

~ * ~

Baemalen hoists the blond mage into his arms and carries her into the next room to rest with her brother.

Taveth purses his lips. “This was supposed to be simple. I shouldn’t have been here. _She_ shouldn’t have been here.”

Kel’ori mutters, but is too weak to say any real words.

Baemalen gives Taveth an apologetic grin and eases the baby from Kel’ori’s arms. “Hey, at least we got to meet. Hopefully that’s worth something.”

Kel’ori smiles weakly at the Illidari.

Taveth leans back in the hammock he’s sat himself in. “I mean, I did save your life. Heh.”

Baemalen chuckles. “You did. Still haven’t found a way to repay you.”

“You seem to be taking good care of my nephew. And my sister. Maybe that’s enough.” Taveth settles a small smile on the man.

Baemalen sobers. “Perhaps. Regardless. I’ll find a better way some day.”

Taveth waves him off. “I’m really not about debts and repayment. Unless you run up a tab in my family’s tavern, then my father will force me to be firm with you… But my oldest brother will step in and do it for me. Really, it’s fine.”

Baemalen’s smile turns nervous and he chuckles again. “I’ll, ah…be sure to avoid that one, then.”


	34. Chapter 33

Kel’ori yawns as greeting to the two undead in the main room. She rubs her eyes and starts readying to make breakfast for the entire house. “Were the cellar rats fed last night?” She snerks at her own joke.

Anarchaia gives a reserved frown. “Yes. And Grim.”

Jorick stretches and sets himself atop a wooden barrel, a knuckle to an eye. “The elf bitch is just as moody as he is when it comes to free food. Spat at me. Had half a mind to throw it in her face.” He blinks groggily at the scowl he gets from Anarchaia. “I didn’t.”

“You should’ve,” Kel’ori grumbles. “Eggs and sausage okay with you?” she asks the human. “Want to use the last of them.” She waves her hand, but nothing happens. The elf tries again and a small box of eggs and a chain of sausages appear on the table. “I haven’t misfired in decades…”

“I’ll eat anything,” Jorick responds with a smile.

“Except bananas,” Anarchaia says, raising her eyebrows.

He makes a face. “They’re gross. Give me a break.”

She chuckles and gives Kel’ori a sympathetic nod. “I think we’re both about spent here. Maybe we should consider taking a trip through the portal for a little bit.”

“Can you even walk yet?” she asks, setting the skillet on a rack over the fire to warm up.

“I can carry her,” Koltira says.

The smaller mage hums as she wiggles her toes within her boots. “My feet work but my legs still feel kinda…heavy.”

“I’ve got you,” he insists. “Nothing to worry about.”

Anarchaia smiles albeit reservedly. “Not sure I like the idea of being a piece of luggage…”

The death knight lets out a long breath. “Okay.”

Anarchaia waves her hands. “U-unless you don’t mind, that is.”

Koltira pinches the bridge of his nose. “How about you decide what you want. Sit in the chair another day until you’re fully healed, or go now so that at least you two aren’t drained. I don’t care either way.”

She blinks, then shrugs and folds her arms. She pouts the smallest bit. “Whatever you’re fine with.”

His nostrils flair as he purses his lips and just stares at the mage.

Baemalen yawns as he saunters into the room, his hair a mess. “I smell eggs,” he mumbles. “What are we talking about?”

“Ana and I need to go to Azeroth. We’re just not recovering our energy properly here.” She scrapes the scrambled eggs into a large dish, then sets the already cooked sausage on to warm and sear the sides. “Bae, would you mind getting dishes out? I just…can’t magic right now.”

He nods and sleepily retrieves the items. He yawns again. “Are you taking Bel with you? I can stay and watch him if you’d like.”

Kel’ori furrows her brow. “Do you not want to come? I don’t think we’ll be gone long.”

Baemalen thinks on it a second. “I could, I suppose. Though Lord Illidan usually has people standing watch at the portal…”

The high elf purses her lips at the tension across the room as she rolls one sausage onto each plate. She separates the two for the living prisoners and makes eye contact with Baemalen in the awkward air. “Do you really think they’d recognize you?”

He does his best to ignore the other two and smiles uneasily in response. “I was there for a good amount of time, so…maybe?”

“Morning. Wh—”

“Tav!” Kel’ori beckons her brother over. “Can you think of any ways we can smuggle Bae past guards into Azeroth?”

Baemalen’s smile grows more nervous. “There’s really no need to fuss over me. I mean, shouldn’t someone stay and feed the priso—…people?”

She blinks at him. “We won’t be gone that long. Besides, you can’t go down there, remember?”

“Right.” Baemalen sighs but his smile remains. “Guess it can’t be helped.” He pokes a sausage with a fork and bites off the end. “So when do we go?”

“When those two stop doing what they’re doing.” Jorick motions to the death knight and mage.

“Fine!” Anarchaia surrenders. “I’ll go.”

Koltira motions emphatically. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” she huffs indignantly.

Kel’ori giggles nervously and hands a tray to Taveth. “Help me feed them? Unless Jorick wants to go say hi to the bitchier Alisbeth?”

“Yeah, no. I’m good,” Jorick responds. “Had enough attitude for the week from her and Grim.”

The two Nighthearts go below to feed the two living elves. Taveth sets the food in front of the woman and purses his lips at her, then turns and gives Grimory a small smile.

“S-sorry. About all of—”

“We’ve all already apologized,” Kel’ori says. She sets the tray down. “Come on. He doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Thanks,” Grimory says to Taveth as he turns away. “I appreciate it.” He takes a drink of water.

Taveth stops and turns back to the man. He glances at his sister, then back. <<I promise you, it was worth it,>> he says in demonic. <<You’re a hero, you just don’t know it yet.>>

Kel’ori’s head snaps around. “What are you saying to him? What was that?”

He flinches. “N-nothing!”

Grimory’s brow pinches slightly, only understanding most of what was said. “Thanks?” he says meekly as the two walk away.

Kel’ori huffs as she pushes her brother into a chair. “Eat your damn breakfast.”

“I didn’t say anything!” he insists.

“Just do as you’re told.”

“I’m not a child anymore! I _will_ eat, but only because I’m hungry. Stop bossing me around.”

Jorick snerks through a cheek full of egg. “After the other day I should agree with him.”

Taveth tilts his head, still tired. “Which day? There have been many days.” He shovels nearly too much food into his mouth.

“Two days ago when you kicked that bitch’s ass with your pack of demons,” Jorick says plainly.

Taveth blushes lightly at the compliment. “Oh. Heh. Most of them were just really upset about Tryx. I haven’t had the heart to count my losses. No idea about the doomguard she was so fond of.”

Jorick shrugs. “You give yourself too little credit.” He collects the empty dishes for washing, then gently pushes Kel’ori away when she fusses. “You may not use that power of yours often but when you do it seems pretty useful,” he continues.

Taveth shakes his head. “I really don’t like it, though. I’d rather just be researching in the library than summoning demons.”

The older human chuckles as he stacks the clean plates after washing them in the bucket. “I suppose you would.”

Kel’ori sighs from her seat. “We ready to go, then?”

Anarchaia gives the death knight beside her a sideways glance. “I am.”

Baemalen nods. “Just let me pack a couple of things.” He disappears into the next room to fill a rucksack with some clothes, then throws a cowl over his head to obscure his face. He returns. “All right, all set.”

Kel’ori packs a diaper bag and wraps Bel’theas in the papoose around her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Taveth nods, clutching his satchel.

Koltira looks to the human mage. “Are you going to change your mind halfway there?”

Anarchaia folds her arms and, after waiting a second, looks down. She gives a quiet noise of frustration, then grabs a thigh to cross it over the other. She pouts and folds her arms again. “No.”

He gently lifts the mage and gives her a stern look. “I’ll hold you to that. Don’t make me drop your ass in the dirt.”

“And we’re off,” Kel’ori says, leading the way out the door. “I can’t wait to feel like I actually have some energy. You know, this is very similar to Argus. Not as bad, but similarly draining.”

Anarchaia’s pout deepens and she begrudgingly leans her temple on his shoulder.

“Never knew being a mage had so many rules,” Baemalen chuckles.

“Honestly, neither did I,” Kel’ori says. “I’ve never left Azeroth before, so it was never a problem.”

Jorick jumps as another figure joins him on the back of the group. “Woah. Uh, where have you been?”

“Brooding,” Grimory grunts.

Taveth smiles tentatively at Grimory. “You doing okay?”

He nods. “I’m fine. Don’t like double crossing people is all.”

“What did you say to get her here, anyway?” the elf asks.

He sobers. “She said if I could get her to Vendormu, she’d ask her boss to send us back so we could fix our past.” He shakes his head. “But no matter what, that would mean the other dragon would help Sargeras come to power and, even if we were happy, that’s not a future I’d want.”

Taveth nods in understanding. “I would’ve done the same, if it’s any comfort. I stand to lose a sister, a friend, and even a newer friend who is waiting for me in Stormwind back in our time.”

“It’s a tough choice,” Koltira says over his shoulder. “You don’t have anything to gain from such an arrangement. Grim does. I wouldn’t have made it so easily, either.”

Kel’ori looks over her shoulder at Baemalen. When she catches his eyes, she gives him a gentle smile.

Grimory shrugs a shoulder, grateful for the support but not wanting to show it. “I couldn’t do that to you guys, either. I made her promise you’d all be safe, but…I know that’s not guaranteed.”

Jorick nods absently, not wanting to admit that he disagrees. “She’s untrustworthy in general, anyway.”

Koltira bites his tongue, but scoffs at Jorick’s comment.

Baemalen returns the grin with no hesitation. “Not much father.”

Kel’ori giggles. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell. Not like there’s a giant gate, or something.” She winks at him, then returns her focus forward as Bel’theas squirms impatiently in the papoose.

Baemalen sets a hand on a hip. “Oh, wow. Sarcasm.” He smirks. “Next you’ll be mocking me, then poisoning my dinners.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were married already,” Jorick snerks from the back.

Kel’ori rolls her eyes. “Already implies ever.”

Taveth shakes his head. “Something my sister is completely incapable of.”

Jorick chuckles. “Marriage? Or commitment?”

“Probably the latter,” Anarchaia mumbles a touch too loudly.

Kel’ori’s nostrils flair at the other mage, her eyes narrowed on the back of her head. “I probably know more about relationships than _you,_ ” she hisses.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes in turn. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment considering you’ve been in so many.”

Baemalen gives a nervous chuckle. “Eh, let’s fight nice, shall we, ladies?”

Kel’ori’s nose wrinkles into a sneer. Before she can snap back at Anarchaia, Taveth clears his throat loudly from the back.

“Looks like it’s not far, now. Any plans once we get there?”

Koltira smirks. “We’d be fairly close to Duskwood. Ana knows of a good tavern we could spend the day at.”

The mage perks out of her annoyance, then sobers. “Duskwood.” She nods. “Yeah, we can go there. I’ll need to put on my mask.”

Jorick chuckles. “Maybe I’ll pay a visit to myself and show him what’ll happen if he gets on that boat,” he says, pointing to the thickest scar across his chest through the opening in his shirt.

Grimory narrows an eye at it. “You get thrown to the sharks?”

The human laughs. “In a manner of speaking.”

Taveth looks at the human’s scar. “What’s the story on that one?”

“Well,” Jorick responds, “I was on a boat for a few years. Doing unfavorable things. There was a mutiny and a not-so-fun-but-just-as-unfavorable battle. The captain himself gave me this beauty. Pleasant fellow.”

Anarchaia cranes her head to look over Koltira’s shoulder. “You were a pirate?”

“That’s a word,” the human says simply.

“Real honorable,” Koltira mutters on a breath.

Taveth smiles and takes out his journal. “Do you mind? I like to keep notes on everything, including my travel companions. Private journal.”

Jorick gives the scholar a small smile. “Oh, uh, sure. Never thought to jot down any of my adventures. Guess it’s not a bad idea.” His eyes flick ahead to the back of Koltira’s head. “And no, it wasn’t. But I’d argue no one’s ever been completely honorable.”

Koltira glares ahead. “Exceptional hearing for an older gentleman.”

Anarchaia gives a quiet laugh, a hand over her mouth.

The other human gives a curt sigh. “Younger than you.”

“By elf standards, we’re the same age… Ish,” Koltira says.

“Well sadly we don’t get to retain our youthful beauty. No matter how…ghastly,” Jorick responds with a joking grin.

“Fight nice,” Anarchaia mumbles.

Koltira makes a face but chooses not to respond to the human.

~~

Kel’ori slows to walk beside Baemalen and discreetly take his hand to pull him away from the others. “Wanna see my house?” she whispers.

Baemalen’s eyebrows raise. “Ooh. Sure. Where’s that at?”

“Stormwind. We’re practically in the shadow of the Citadel.”

He nods. “I’ve always wanted to visit there. But being a penniless orphan really put a wrench in those gears.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to see what it’s like being quite the opposite.” She giggles, then lets go of his hand after realizing she’s still holding it.

His smile widens some. “I’d thought I’d already gotten a taste of that by having friends and free will.” He pauses. “For the most part.”

Kel’ori giggles as Bel’theas reaches a chubby hand out to grab at the nearby Illidari. “What, you’d rather have friends than nice things and lots of gold?”

Baemalen hums and taps at his chin. He makes a show of thinking it over. “Mmmmmyes.”

The high elf laughs and sits the infant up so he can babble at Baemalen and look around at their surroundings. “How sweet. I’m rather fond of things. They can’t stab you in the back or say shitty things while pretending they don’t realize they’re being a giant bitch. And then they play victim when I pay them back.” She smiles sweetly.

He looks between Kel’ori and the death knight carrying the other mage. “R-right. Though things won’t be a shoulder for you when you’re down. Or save you when you’re in a tough spot. Heh.”

Kel’ori shrugs. “It’s called shop-therapy for a reason.” She lifts Bel’theas so he can see over her shoulder.

Baemalen titters. “You women, I swear.”

The infant blinks his black eyes, then lets out a little _raw_ of a growl at Grimory.

Grimory blinks at the infant, then—through no will of his own—makes a face back along with a growl. He pauses, then gives a confused grimace.

Kel’ori glances back at the exchange of noises. She purses her lips and moves Bel’theas out of sight of the demon hunter. He whimpers in annoyance but doesn’t fight it.

“What? I like new makeups!”

Baemalen chuckles. “I guess I can give you that one.”

The mage shrugs and smiles coyly. “Of course you can’t. My logic is sound.”

Taveth looks at Grimory from the corner of his eyes. “You, uh, bonding with him or…”

The Illidari returns the sideways glance, brow knit. “I don’t know. I guess.”

Taveth blinks and smiles. “He’s cute. Can’t argue that.”

“It’s a baby. They’re all cute,” the Illidari responds moodily.

Anarchaia frowns into the distance.

Jorick chuckles and shrugs. “I don’t know. Have you seen a newborn goblin? Not exactly cuddly looking.”

Taveth forces his smile. “Not…all…babies are cute. Most are just babies. That look like babies.”

Kel’ori giggles ahead of them. “Taveth doesn’t like babies.”

“They’re sticky,” he says defensively. “And covered in drool. Not parchment friendly.”

“Oh, but I bet you were a cute little brat, hm?” Jorick says to the scholar with a smirk and nudging him with an elbow.

Grimory snerks. “Probably born with a book in his hands, yeah?”

Taveth blinks. “I wouldn’t know.”

Kel’ori glances back. “He wasn’t cute at all. Just another average baby. Not much has change, huh?”

He makes a face at his sister. “Diori was a cute baby. Still covered in drool, but cuter than most.” He gives Grimory a reassuring grin.

A hint of sadness flashes through Grimory’s eyes and he doesn’t smile. “I’m sure she was.”

Taveth frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Grimory responds curtly.

Koltira stops to gauge the final leg of their journey. “Okay, be quiet. We’ll skirt around the outside to avoid the worst of the demons. Hopefully none notice us at all. Let’s go.”

Jorick nods to the death knight. “And our mages are virtually out of commission, so let’s do our best to avoid conflict.”

Anarchaia’s previous frown deepens. “I can still help.”

“Let’s just be careful and quiet, all right?” Koltira growls.

Taveth lifts a hand for attention. “What ab—”

“I said quiet. Not a word or a sound. Let’s go.”

They rush around the edges of Hellfire until they arrive at the steps of the gates.

“We should run through while they’re distracted,” Kel’ori says, motioning at the demons fighting their way to the portal.

The group hurries up the massive stairwell—Baemalen being sure to hold his cowl about his face—then step through. The portal’s energy washes over them like an odd blanket, and when they emerge on the other side, the dryness of the Blasted Lands bids them greeting. The moon hangs overhead and a warm, gentle breeze floats by.

Anarchaia inhales slowly, already feeling the effects of being back on Azeroth. “Home,” she hums.

“Past home, anyway,” Jorick adds.

Kel’ori takes a deep breath and sighs. “It’s like a shot of espresso.”

Taveth looks around, his lips pursed. “Okay, so, we’re going somewhere not here until you two are recharged? This area seems unfriendly.”

“Ana will take us when she has enough energy, right?” Koltira says.

Anarchaia nods. “I should have enough for a portal right now, actually. But, first—” She produces her mask from her satchel and throws it over her face. She then lifts a hand and a doorway of swirling light opens, a large but run-down looking tavern showing through the middle.

Jorick sneers. “Of all the places I miss the most, that isn’t one of them.”

Taveth cocks an eyebrow. “Another tavern. Okay, _this_ time I will not be drinking an idiotic amount of liquor, and you can’t make me.” He points an accusatory finger at Baemalen.

Koltira rolls his eyes. “You did that all on your own, kid.” He steps through the portal before the high elf can retort.

Baemalen laughs. “That’s what they all say until my bad influence kicks in.” He gives Taveth a wink before following the rest through.

“Kel?” Taveth asks.

“I’m not your mother. Mind your own intoxication.” She follows Baemalen through the portal, wrapping Bel’theas in the papoose to hide him from view.

Taveth frowns and steps through. “Fine.” He rushes to catch up as Koltira leads the others inside.

A bored looking goblin woman greets them at the counter near the door. “Tavern or board?” she says, not bothering to look up from her nails.

Anarchaia _uhh_ s as she cranes her neck to count heads. “Board, I suppose. How many vacanc—”

“Two,” the goblin says shortly, then tosses two keys onto the table. “Fifty a night. Per room.”

The mage pats at her satchel, then curses quietly beneath her breath. “I forgot—”

“On me, then,” Baemalen says with a charming smile. He sets the precise amount on the counter.

The goblin woman grunts and scoops up the gold—again without looking.

“Does your tavern serve food?” Kel’ori asks. “What?” she asks as Taveth gives her a look. “I barely ate breakfast, I’ve been so tired.”

“Do you want to go in for a drink or hide in a room?” Koltira asks Anarchaia under his breath.

“A drink sounds kind of nice,” Anarchaia says with a small smile. “But if you’re… _tired_ …”

“Yes,” the goblin responds to Kel’ori, then raises her voice. “ _Ana! Patrons!_ ”

The mage in Koltira’s arms jumps. “Oh. Right.”

A shattering sounds quietly from the next room behind a short curtain. The goblin huffs. “You’d better fix that.”

“Sorry! I will!” comes a well-known voice from behind the curtain. “And I’ll be right out!”

“Are you just trying to get me alone in a room?” Koltira whispers.

“Gods forbid,” Anarchaia responds equally quiet, smirking. She then turns and frowns at the woman in the doorway, who isbrushing her white hair behind an ear and dusting her palms on her barmaid’s apron. “And I don’t want you to witness my customer service voice.”

Jorick chuckles as he meanders to the long table near the lit fireplace. “My childhood memories consist mostly of the sound of things breaking.”

Baemalen and Grimory join him. “Mine’s mostly…children. And scrubbing floors,” the former says thoughtfully.

Kel’ori laughs and sits near the red-haired man. “Same. Though it was younger siblings and tavern floors. Punishment for various things.”

“Like bad grades and shoplifting,” Taveth says. He sits across from her as she sticks out her tongue.

The younger Anarchaia smiles warmly at the two as she passes and makes her way to the table. She sets a menu down and pulls a worn notepad from her apron. “Hi, guys! I’m Anarchaia. How are we doing on this late night?”

“Whiskey please,” Grimory says tiredly, causing the girl to pause.

“Whiskey. Right. Anything for anyone else?”

“Make it a bottle,” Jorick responds, “if you’d be so kind.”

“Make it three!” Baemalen adds with an excited grin.

Kel’ori smiles at the young girl. “Well, this is a treat. I’d like a shepherd’s pie with no onions and extra carrots, three slices of hot bread, with butter on the side, and an apple pie with extra cinnamon. Think your little self can handle— _ow!_ ” She reaches down to rub her knee as she glares across the table.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Taveth says, most of his attention on his journal, where he’s sketching out the tavern. “She doesn’t want any of it fresh, Ana—archaia.” He clears his throat and glances nervously up, hoping she didn’t catch the slip of her more familiar nickname. “She’s just a horrible person for no good reason. Whatever your kitchen has already got made is good enough for her.”

“No, that’s what I wanted,” she huffs.

“You hate extra cinnamon and love onions. Now leave the girl alone.” He gives Anarchaia a small smile, then returns to his book, forgetting to order anything for himself.

Koltira chuckles, his ear perked to the other room. “Good thing you didn’t want me to hear that. It was awful. Like listening to an actually confident version of you.” He turns for the hallway. “What’s our room number?”

The pencil over the notepad scribbles away on its own accord as the girl patiently smiles at the elf across from her. She nods as though she weren’t just nearly slighted. One of the room keys lifts itself from the table and she watches as it floats into the mage’s hand in the doorway. “A mage!” she said excitedly. “H-hey, miss! Do you think you could—”

“Sorry! Long day and all! Good night!” The Anarchaia in Koltira’s arms gently presses an elbow into him. “Room thirteen,” she mumbles urgently.

Koltira chuckles. “Are you sure you don’t want to go give a young, aspiring girl some advice?”

Anarchaia leans her head back and groans. “I don’t think so. It may change a lot if I do.”

He sits her up on the bed, then closes the door. “Yeah. Don’t want to do more damage to the timeline. All that.”

“Yeah,” she responds quietly as she beats a fist gently against one if her thighs to assess the feeling. “What if she decides to go to Dalaran of her own accord? Then she’ll never die, never meet Master, never meet _you_.”

“But you’d be alive. Khadgar would probably hear of your skill. As for me, a girl like that has no need for a dead man.” He purses his lips and shakes his head. “I just want you to be happy.”

She frowns up at him. “But I’m _happy_ with _you_ ,” she says, pulling off her mask to reveal the sadness in her eyes.

He takes her hand gently in his and leans forward to rest his forehead on hers. “You say that…but I think you’d be so much happier. You’d have all the things you can’t have now.”

Anarchaia scowls but does not move. She shakes her head. “That’s not true. I like what I have _now_. Sure, I miss my parents and my looks, but having you makes it all worth that.”

“Nothing is worth undeath. You say you’re happy, but I know how much it hurts you. You could have a child of your own.” Koltira looks away, knowing that any child she had would not be his.

The mage’s scowl deepens and she grabs his chin to force him to look back at her. “Stop talking like that! We’ve been through so much together and you’re all right with just tearing that away from me? Away from _us?_ ”

“You can’t tell me there is no part of you that wants to go and talk to that girl back there and save her life.” He brushes a lock of white hair behind her ear, his fingers rest on her pale cheek.

Anarchaia remains silent for a long beat before she looks down at her hands. “Yeah. But not as much as I don’t want to do that.”

Koltira lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. “If you insist.”

She frowns up at him. “You aren’t going to do anything, are you?”

“Why don’t you distract me so I don’t do something stupid?” He gives her a suggestive smile.

She returns the grin. “Hm…but if I do that, won’t you still be _doing something stupid?_ ” She kisses his forehead.

He gives her a look of insult. “How dare you call yourself such a thing. I may just have to punish you for that.” He leans close, sliding his hand around her waist. “How are your legs?”

She gives a small smile, cheeks pink. “Tingly but coming around. And I thought you were the one who likes punishments around here.”

He chuckles and leans closer, pulling her chest against his. “You’re not exactly in a position to argue, now, are you?”

She smirks and gently chews her lower lip. “What position should I be in?”

Koltira stands and grabs her by the legs, then yanks her so she’s laying down. “How about this one?”

She yelps as her head hits the mattress, then titters. “Oh? Is this your favorite? I’m rather fond of it.”

He leans over her and chuckles. “Me too.”


	35. Chapter 34

“What did he say?” the blood knight asks the man. She ignores the food but picks up the water and turns away from him to unbuckle her mask and lift it high enough to drink.

Grimory shakes his head slightly. “Something about everything being worth it. And being a hero.”

Alisbeth nods, her frosty eyes sad. “He’s right.”

He turns to her next. “Let me guess. You’re not allowed to fill me in. Did you all come from the future or something?”

Alisbeth purses her lips and looks away.

“Yes,” the blood knight says plainly.

“It’s a secret!” the other screams across the room.

“I have to ask… What the hell is wrong with you? Like, in the head.”

The other shrinks away, then leans forward and just screams in response.

Grimory’s ears pull back at the screaming and he lifts his hands. “O-okay! Let’s back up, yeah? Uhh…time traveling? Can we talk about that?”

Alisbeth grits her teeth and growls at the other woman. “I’m not crazy!”

“Now I see why you tried to change everything.”

The death knight makes a face, then turns her back to the others. “No, we can’t talk about it. They said don’t talk about it. I’m supposed to keep it secret. And if you start talking about it, I’ll scream louder until Koltira comes back.”

“Koltira turned out to be a real prick,” the blood knight says. She scoots her food to Grimory, only keeping the water with her.

“I deserve it, though. I’m very bad.”

The other woman shakes her head and looks at the Illidari. “If you could go back in time and change something—anything from something small in your life to changing the entire course of history… Would you do it?”

Grimory purses his lips between the two, then sets his glowing green gaze on the blood knight. “I mean…I suppose,” he responds thoughtfully.

“What would you change?” she presses.

Grimory shrugs a shoulder. “Not much. Just…wish I’d gotten to know someone a little better.”

The blood knight nods. “What if I could help with that?”

“Don’t!” Alisbeth yells.

He gives her a curious glance. “How?”

“Don’t do it!” Alisbeth shouts again.

The woman leans around to look at her. “Are you really going to tell me no after everything you did to bring me here?”

Alisbeth curls up and _hmph_ s but says nothing.

“I can change everything,” she continues to Grimory. “If you want me to. What’s something I could say to your past self that would make you trust me?”

Grimory looks between the two as though considering other options, then shrugs. “Uhm. I’m not sure. You could say you knew my parents.”

“That’s an easy bluff to call,” she says. “Worth a try, though.” They go silent for a long time. The blood knight cocks her head, an ear to the ceiling. “Awfully quiet up there.” She swiftly begins working to free her key ring tucked within her trousers.

Grimory furrows his brow as his eyes widen. “You have keys? Like… Universal keys?”

She chuckles idly as she undoes her shackles. “What did you do with the one I gave you, anyway?” She stands and goes to the door.

“I don’t know, I must have— Wait, where are you going?”

She whistles through the crack of the door and turns to Grimory as she waits. “I already told you where I’m going.”

On the other side of the door the wooden tool handle snaps. The woman pushes hard against the door.

“Can you at least free us, too?” Grimory pleads.

She forces the door open finally and is greeted by Stormbreaker, who trumpets urgently.

Alisbeth blinks from the corner. “You’re just leaving him here?”

The blood knight stops, her foot on the top step. She turns and breaks another key from the ring, then throws it into the dirt between the two.

“Don’t lose it. You won’t get another.”

“Take him home!” the death knight insists.

She scoffs. “He’s lucky I’m giving him a key. And I won’t even close the door on you.” She turns and leaves, gritting her teeth in anger as she takes it out on the wrong Grimory. In moments she’s on her dragonhawk and in the air.

Grimory kicks the key over to the death knight. “Guess I can’t complain. It’s just a few days walk back.”

Alisbeth stares at the key for several minutes, then picks it up. She unlocks herself, then him. She sets the key in the dirt, then goes back to her corner. “I’m sorry she didn’t take you. Be careful, Grim. They won’t come after you.”

He stands and dusts himself off. “Wait, you’re staying down here? Why?”

She frowns up at him. “Because I don’t want to get in trouble. I want to help you, but…”

Grimory frowns down at her. “But it sounds like those guys are gone. You won’t get in trouble if they aren’t around, yeah?”

She stays quiet for a long time. “You…want me to go with you?”

“Or at the very least just out of this cellar, yeah? Maybe you can get back at those guys when they come back.”

“They’re my friends,” Alisbeth insists. She pushes to her feet and goes to him. “I’ll walk you home, kay? Let me just get a weapon.” In the upper area of the house she finds the Redblade alone in the corner it had been sharing with the polearm. Alisbeth takes her sword and skips out the door. “I won’t let anything near you, Mr. Grim. I promise.”

Grimory gives the woman a small smile. “I could make it back alone, but I suppose having an armed escort is more ideal.” He chuckles and gestures for her to follow him down the path.

She follows eagerly, grinning up at him. “I don’t like walking. Neither of us do, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t ride you. I think. I’ll try to remember not to. So, you have a girlfriend waiting back at the Black Temple for you?”

He knits his brow slightly but otherwise does not address the first part. He instead flushes at the question and scratches at an arm. “Uh. Well. Not sure _girlfriend_ is the right word, but…we’re involved.” He clears his throat. “Do you have someone?”

Alisbeth frowns deep and stares at the ground. “I don’t think so. No.” She clenches her jaw. “What makes her so special?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. There’s just something about her. We’ve been through a lot together.” He scrutinizes her. “So…a death knight? Joining the Illidari?”

She smiles wide and balls up her fists in excitement. “I want to! I want horns. Do you think they’ll let me have horns? I don’t care about anything else. I want to be horny, like Illidan and you and…other demon hunters.” She bounces in excitement. “Do you think they’ll let me join? Even though I’m…a monster?”

Grimory’s eyes give her a quick once over. “I’m not a fan of death knights, but you don’t seem…monstrous. They might? I’m not even sure of the rules. And I’ve been here for a year and a half.”

The death knight forces her grin to remain, though it’s less enthusiastic. “I am a monster. But it’s okay. I’m okay with it. I enjoy killing things, even if I didn’t actually decide to do it but I find myself doing it anyway.” She pats his shoulder. “I don’t like death knights, either. Wanna play a game?”

The Illidari smiles uncomfortably but otherwise nods. “Sure. What kind of game?”

“You like I Spy, right? I spy something…” She absently hooks her arm through his and hugs it to her as she looks around. “Gold! Something gold.” She grins up at him.

Grimory hums, then smiles, feeling an obligation to hold her to him as well. “Is it my hair?”

“Nope! Guess again.”

He hums again. “The buckles on your boots?”

She shakes her head and giggles. “Wrong again! You’re looking too close.” She leans her head on his shoulder and looks in the distance at the golden roof of the tall tower at Falcon Watch.

Grimory flushes, mildly uncomfortable but not so much as to move away. He follows her gaze, then makes a noise of realization. “The Falcon Watch tower?”

Alisbeth jumps and claps in excitement. “Yes! Your turn, your turn!”

The Illidari glances around. “I spy something…black.”

Alisbeth taps her chin as she thinks. “The sky?”

He chuckles. “You’re really good at this. Are you coming all the way back to the temple? Otherwise I can grab a flight at Falcon Watch.”

She fidgets and purses her lips. “I… I, um… Do you not want me to go?”

“Hm? Oh, well, I mean…that’s really up to you. Wasn’t sure if you were out here on a mission or something.”

The death knight frowns and squeezes his bicep tighter to her chest. “There is one. But my part of it is done. You were my mission, Grim. I’ll let you go, though. You have to get back to the pretty girl with the brown hair.”

He knits his brow down at her. “I was your mission? What does that mean?”

Alisbeth says nothing for several minutes, then points excitedly at Falcon Watch. “We’re almost there! So, did you want to go without me or…”

Grimory sighs, half having expected that answer. “Like I said, it’s up to you,” he responds tiredly. “If you have stuff to do here, still…”

She purses her lips, thoroughly grumpy. “That’s not how this works. I ask you and you tell me. I’m a prisoner, too, you know. Do _you_ think I have any reason to go back? I’m already gonna be in trouble for being out.”

“Well I don’t really know you well enough to say I want you around, yeah? But the company wouldn’t hurt.” He shrugs.

The death knight throws her arms around him and squeezes tight in her excitement. “Yay! I love spending time with you! And maybe I can kill some things and keep you safe and— _This is so exciting!_ ” she shouts, shaking him.

Grimory gives an uneasy chuckle as he’s jostled, but nods all the same. “Y-yeah. Fun. Let’s do our best _not_ to run into any trouble, though, yeah?” He pats her on the shoulder with more gentility than she’d shown him.

“I’ll do my best.” She grins and leans up to kiss his cheek. “But if trouble finds us…”

He reflexively jerks away from the kiss, flushed and taken aback. He clears his throat. “U-uh. I suppose out here that’s not too uncommon. I have some training and am near the top of my peers in unarmed combat, yeah? We should be fine.”

Alisbeth flinches at his reaction and clasps her hands in front of her. “Sorry. I forgot about her for a moment.”

The man again knits his brow in confusion. “How do you even know about Illie and me? In fact, how do you know so much about me in general? Are you a time traveler, too?”

She shrugs. “I saw you two…at the temple. I didn’t tell anyone, though.” She frowns and looks away, suddenly re-experiencing the hurt from seeing him with the other woman.

“I mean, I suppose it’s not particularly a secret, but it’s not particularly approved of, either. Thanks for not saying anything.” He scratches nervously at the nape of his neck.

She shakes her head and doesn’t look at him. “Can’t change it.”

The Illidari sighs. “So, what I’m piecing together here is you know me in the future—and we’re together or something—but you came back to…” He pauses. “Actually, that’s all I’ve got.”

She shakes her head instantly. “No. Wrong. All wrong.” She sniffs and wipes her nose. As they near the base of the hill where Falcon Watch is situated, she turns to him, tears rolling down her cheeks, but a huge smile on her face. “Look! We’re here! I’m gonna pet the wyvern!” She grabs his hand and pulls him along as fast as she can.

Grimory can’t help but frown at the tears but shakes off the questions he wants to ask. “Yeah, sounds fun.” He follows her up to the flight master and smiles as the death knight accosts the lazy beast with head pats.

“We need a ride to Shadowmoon,” Alisbeth says, smiling at the flight master.

“That’s three gold per wyvern.”

She frowns and looks around, then slips off her boots. “Will these cover the cost?”

“Uh, I can pay,” the Illidari says and hands over six gold. He mounts one of the wyverns. “I’ll see you back at the temple, yeah?”

Alisbeth scrambles to mount the other beast, hugging her boots to her chest as it takes off. She puts the boots back on then frowns ahead at the Illidari’s back. **_He doesn’t care about you. He never cared. Pathetic little Alisbeth. They’ll all be so relieved to see you’re gone._**

When the two finally land near the draenei altar after a couple hours’ time, Grimory stops to wait for her. He smiles and offers a hand to help her down. “Have a nice flight?”

“No,” she says shortly, ignoring his hand. “Let’s get you back so you never have to see me again.” She stomps off in the direction she thinks the temple is, though she’s not entirely sure.

Grimory bristles as she stomps away. He jogs to catch up. “Hold on! What is your problem?! If it’s something you can’t tell me, then don’t take it out on me, yeah?”

“Nothing!” Alisbeth shouts, throwing her hands in the air. “Nothing is wrong at all. Nothing is suddenly occurring to me. Nothing has made me realize I’m nothing to anyone.” She forces an unconvincing smile. “So let’s just go. While I’m still perfectly fine.”

Grimory’s lips tighten into a pensive frown. “I may not know you, but I can’t let someone just be in complete distress like you are, yeah? If you want to talk without actually revealing anything, I’m all ears.”

The death knight shakes her head. “I deserve it. It’s fine. I deserve it for lying. All of it. I spy something green!”

He sighs. “Fel,” he mutters, then walks on past her toward the temple.

“You didn’t spy anything,” Alisbeth says quietly. She falls in line behind him and follows him in silence.

“Something gray,” he responds.

She fidgets with her fingers and looks around at everything. “Smoke?”

“No,” he says despondently.

She slowly gets closer to him. “Dirt?”

“Close.”

She tentatively slips her hand into his and frowns up at him. “Your mood?”

The Illidari tenses uncomfortably but otherwise obliges. “Also close.” He gestures to one of the large boulders on the cliff side.

Alisbeth giggles. “Oh! Rocks! Silly me. Um. I spy something…um…” She looks around, seeing only the green and the grey of the dead landscape. “Uh…blue?”

He gives the landscape a long, thoughtful look, then shrugs. “I honestly have no idea.”

“It’s my skin,” Alisbeth says with a sad smile as she stares at her hands.

Grimory sobers, then looks ahead again. “How did you die?”

Alisbeth takes a deep breath, calming herself down. “I was captured after a battle. They were members of the Horde, but… They said I had evil inside me. An abomination.” Her chin quivers, but she reminds herself that she’s already told him the story, so there’s nothing to fear. “I don’t think they meant to kill us. But I’m…not okay. They took everything from me. And instead of letting me burn, my friend brought me back to live in this torture.” She smiles past the tears running over her lips. “You make my days good, though. It’s not so bad when I have you.”

He frowns down at her. “I’m…so sorry. That’s terrible. Is that why you’re here? To get revenge and keep it from happening?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not allowed to change the past. I mean, I already did, but… I’m still here, so I guess I didn’t actually change anything.” She leans her head on his shoulder as they walk. “So I guess in a few years I’ll still die.” She says nothing for a minute. “Would you save yourself if it was you? Even if you were told not to?”

He thinks it over for only a brief moment, then shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, probably. Who wants to be miserable forever?”

As they reach the temple Alisbeth stops beyond the reach of the guards. She straightens and turns to face the Illidari. “Grim. I tried to change everything. I really did. That’s why she’s here. I’m a monster in every possible future. I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you. I never did.”

He stops and gives her a sympathetic look. “While I don’t believe that, I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m not quite sure what happens in the future where we end up together, but I’m sure it was for a reason. You aren’t a monster—neither of you. So don’t be so hard on yourself, yeah?”

Alisbeth takes each of his hands in one of hers and stares at them. “The Diori you knew? …She’ll die. Don’t waste your time looking for her. I want you to be happy. Maybe knowing will let you move on faster.”

An odd look washes over Grimory’s face and he quickly pulls his hands away. He studies her features for a long moment. “You…you’re her.”

She shakes her head. “No. I…” She purses her lips, then suddenly presses to him, kissing him passionately before he can tear away.

He blinks, emerald eyes widening. He allows the kiss for a second, too confused to act, then steps away, face a dark scarlet. “Y-…wh-…?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it better.” She takes his head in her hands and sends a blast of cold into his mind. She kisses the top of his head as he bends in pain. “I’m sorry, Grim. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not her. I’m not good enough.” She sends in another blast of cold. “Just forget I ever existed, okay?”

He tries to cry out, but the chill through his mind draws his voice from his throat. He sinks to his knees, his fingers tight around her arms as his eyes glaze over; when it’s done, he blinks the frost from them and looks up, head still throbbing. “Who-…who are you?”

She turns quickly from him and grabs his hand, then practically drags him to the guards. “I found one of yours! Come get him!” Once she’s close enough she releases him, then takes off running the other direction. **_You really think that’ll change things? Silly girl._**

The guards catch the stumbling elf, then stare in confusion after the death knight. After a moment, they shrug at one another and help the delirious Grimory up the temple stairs.


	36. Chapter 35

The young Anarchaia deflates as the death knight and mage disappear, then shrugs and sighs as she turns back to the table. “S-sorry. We don’t get many of them around here.” She regains her composure and smiles down at Taveth expectantly.

“Get him a gin,” Kel’ori says.

Taveth glances at his sister, then does a double take to the girl standing over them. “Eh. Um. No. Red wine, if you’ve got it?”

The waitress smiles and nods. She lingers for a second while his order is written, then retreats to the back room with her notebook in tow.

“Gods, she’s like a different person,” Grimory says.

“Not sure what you mean. She’s still like that,” Jorick responds on a chuckle.

Kel’ori rolls her eyes. “Oh, yes, Anarchaia is so different. So special. Let’s definitely keep talking about her.”

Baemalen gives Kel’ori a sideways smirk. “You want us to talk about you instead?”

“I should ask her about her work here,” Taveth says absently as he finishes with the tavern and turns the page to start drawing Anarchaia as she was in that time as a barmaid. “What about you?” He points at Jorick without looking up. “You lived here, right? What can you tell me?”

Jorick blinks up at the warlock, then shrugs and grins. “I didn’t work here, but I came here often enough to see her—usually to walk her home after her shift at four in the morning. But this place is as basic as inns get.”

“I heard that!” the goblin woman barks from the other side of the room.

The human chuckles, then quiets as Anarchaia returns with their drinks. “Your food will be out shortly,” she says to Kel’ori, then _aww_ s as she notices the swaddled baby. “How old, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The mage smiles, too eager to talk about her son to worry about her irritation at Anarchaia. “About a month. Haven’t had a calendar around, so I’m not real positive.”

She blinks, then double takes at the baby. “Wuh—… _one month?_ ”

Her eyes narrow. “Do you have a problem with m—”

“I think she’s just shocked,” Taveth says, seeing the anger growing in the mage’s eyes. “He’s a very good size, Kel. Don’t worry about it.”

Anarchaia stiffens and gives a nervous titter. “Y-yes! I didn’t mean anything by it! J-just amazed is all. By…his size…and…” She clears her throat. “I’m going to go check on your food. Heh.” She hurries off into the back, ducking beneath the curtain.

Grimory gives Kel’ori a look of mild amusement with hints of sympathy. “Gods, go easy on the poor girl, yeah?”

Kel’ori purses her lips at the demon hunter and makes sure Bel’theas’s head is covered. “ _You_ weren’t in Shattrath. One minute the people were peaceful and the next they were trying to kill Bel. I don’t care if it’s Ana or that drunk in the corner. Questions lead to answers people don’t want.” She softly takes Baemalen’s hand under the table to calm her nerves.

Taveth sets his pen down and sips at his wine. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to offend you. I do agree you shouldn’t let her _see_ him or anything, lest it change the future.” He quirks his lips to the side as he thinks. “Why do you think Koltira wanted to come here, of all places? Knowing Ana worked here and, according to Jorick, lived close by. It’s almost as risky as us going to our tavern in Stormwind.”

Baemalen flushes some and gives her a small smile. “I think the people in Shattrath are a little more sensitive to demons than these backwater folk.”

“Either way,” she says. “I don’t want anything like that to happen again.”

Jorick shrugs at Taveth and takes a drink. “Maybe he plans on doing something. Something he’s not supposed to.”

Taveth’s brow lowers at the human. “You mean something similar to what he just got done locking my cousin up for?”

Jorick lifts his brows in response. “Eyyup.”

“No one’s ever accused Ol’ Kolt of not being a hypocrite,” Grimory mumbles as he swallows a large shot.

“I mean, didn’t he freak out at Ali for cheating and then turned around and cheated?” Kel’ori asks.

Grimory nods and Baemalen gasps with a hand to his mouth. “Scandalous,” the latter says with a grin.

“Not surprised,” Jorick adds, swirling his bottle. “Girl is a master manipulator.”

Anarchaia returns with Kel’ori’s ste aming plate of food and sets it before the elf. “Careful. Plate’s hot. Anything else I can grab for you guys?” she says sweetly, pink eyes fixed o n Taveth and his sketch of her. “Oh, how flattering,” she adds, color in her cheeks.

The elf quietly closes his journal with an awkward smile. “I’m sorry. I…chronicle my travels. I hope you don’t mind.”

Kel’ori clears her throat “Can I get a water?” she says louder than necessary to the barmaid.

A glass filled with chilled water finds its way to the table from the back and sets itself before Kel’ori. She gives Taveth a half-lidded grin before turning. “Not at all,” she responds before retreating into the kitchen.

Jorick gives a huff through his nose.

Kel’ori snerks into her fingertips as Taveth cocks an eyebrow at Jorick.

“Something wrong?” he asks the human.

“You’re pretty oblivious, ain’t ya, kid?” he replies before a drink.

Taveth shrugs. “I don’t understand. Speaking of not understanding, why did we get rooms? How long are we staying here?”

“I don’t know about you, but some of us are pretty tired,” Grimory says into his bottle.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to share a room with us?” Baemalen says with a coy grin.

Taveth purses his lips. “I… That’s not what I meant.”

“What’s the room assignment, though? Who’s going where?” Kel’ori asks, blowing on a carrot on her fork. “Not like the other two need a bed.”

“Because they’ve already found one, I’m sure,” Grimory grumbles, causing the human beside him to roll his eyes.

“Guess it’s a free for all,” Baemalen adds, taking a carrot when it’s offered to him

Taveth shrugs. “I’m sure it won’t be too difficult to figure out who is sleeping where.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you,” she says, jabbing her fork in the air at him.

“Oh, no, that hurts,” Taveth says deadpan. He opens his journal and goes to a new page. “I never traveled to Duskwood in this time. Was it hostile or generally peaceful?”

“Depends on who you are,” Jorick says with a shrug. “And how much money you have on you. Otherwise the people here are pretty peaceful.”

“Sounds like a great place to grow up,” Grimory drones.

“I’ve seen worse?” Baemalen says with a shrug.

Taveth shrugs. “Sounds all right.”

Kel’ori leans close to the Illidari beside her, offering another bite of food. “Want to see Stormwind tomorrow?” she whispers in his ear.

“ _All right_ is a well enough term,” the human responds, then looks up as their barmaid returns.

“How is everything?” she asks Kel’ori just before Baemalen can respond.

The mage gives her a pinched smile. “It’s fine. Thank you. Why don’t you go bother another table? We don’t need you here.”

“You make me want a stiffer drink, Kel,” Taveth says to the page he’s writing on.

Anarchaia’s fingers tighten around the hem of her apron, but she doesn’t falter. Instead she chuckles. “Right. Sorry. It’s my job to be annoying. Glad you’re enjoying it.” She turns to Taveth. “We have them if you’d like?”

Jorick gives Kel’ori a disapproving look. She returns it

Taveth nods. “Uh, sure. Why not? Surprise me.”

As though already forgotten of Kel’ori’s slight, Anarchaia smiles and nods. She returns to the backroom.

“Do you treat all wait staff like that?” the human says in a flat tone. “I hope you at least tip well.”

Baemalen gives a nervous laugh. “Let’s keep it civil. Heh.”

Kel’ori makes a face. “Nope. I only treat them how they deserve.”

Taveth purses his lips tightly at his sister. “What did _our_ Ana do that you’re taking it out on some innocent barmaid who _isn’t_ that person yet?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“She’s my friend, and last I checked, she was yours, too.”

Kel’ori scoffs. “She is _nobody’s_ friend. She is so absorbed in being super perfect at everything that she looks down on anyone who doesn’t meet her standards.”

“Yeah, well, she _is_ better than you, Kel.”

The mage grits her teeth and sneers. “Take it back.”

“No. She’s a good person with a good heart and you’re just a spoiled, malicious brat.”

Kel’ori purses her lips and points a finger at her brother’s heart, sending an invisible charm into him. “You two are simply made for each other, aren’t you? So perfect. Never do anything wrong. We’ll see about that.”

Taveth leans back, eyeing her finger. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she snaps.

Anarchaia returns with a drink inside a chopped bamboo stalk. She sets it before the scholar and smiles. “This is one of my favorites. And it’s quite strong. Tell me if you like it.”

Taveth sips the drink and furrows his brow. “It’s quite good, actually. Do you mind if I ask what’s in it?”

Kel’ori keeps her mouth closed as she eats her food, her attention on her brother and the barmaid.

Her smile widens. “I’m glad you like it! It’s a mix of a few rums distilled from fruit juices. Goes down smooth but you’ll feel it eventually.” She looks up at the table. “And I’m supposed to give you guys last call for kitchen items.”

Grimory shakes his head. “Nothing for me.”

When the rest agree, she gives the scholar one last smile before again disappearing in back.

“We should sell these in the tavern!” Taveth says, holding it out at his sister.

Her face twists into a confused frown. After a moment she sniffs the drink and gives a tentative nod. “It’s like a local Kungaloosh. It’d sell well, I think.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kel’ori scoffs. “Nothing.”

The night presses on until the group can no longer contain their wear. Grimory yawns as he finishes the last of his bottle, then tosses a couple coins onto the table. “Yeah, I think I’m calling it,” he mutters. “I hope our rooms have two beds, yeah?”

“And if they don’t?” Jorick says, rolling the neck of his own empty bottle between his fingers.

“Who gets the pleasure of sleeping with you?” Baemalen says to the other Illidari, voice heavy with alcohol.

“Don’t sound so eager,” the other replies.

Taveth blinks slowly, his ears and nose red from drink. “I think I’m going to get some fresh air.” He scoops his journal into his satchel. “Save me a spot?”

Kel’ori sighs. “I’ll stay up a little longer for you. Don’t take forever, right?”

“Right.” Taveth shoulders his bag and exits the tavern to sit on a small bench out front. He sighs into the cold night air, enjoying how it cools his warm skin.

Baemalen sways as he twirls the remaining key on a finger. “Don’t get lost,” he sings to Taveth, then blinks when the key is snatched from him.

“Dibs on a bed,” Jorick says tiredly and makes his way to the staircase. He bumps into the barmaid in the hallway as she unties her apron. “Sorry, Ana.”

She turns. “It’s okay,” she says, not addressing the nickname. “Uhm. I’m sorry, do I know you? I swear I’ve seen you before.”

He quickly turns back to the staircase to hide his face. “Not yet,” he mumbles and disappears up the stairs.

She hums in confusion and curiosity, then hangs up her apron and heads for the door. “Good night, Gryxelda. See you tomorrow.”

“No escort tonight? What happened to that boyfriend of yours?”

“We broke up a few months ago. You know that.”

“Whatever. Just be safe or I’m out of a third shift barmaid.”

Anarchaia gives a small laugh and closes the door. A flame sparks to life in her palm and she turns down the road headed east.

Taveth stands abruptly, squinting at the figure. “Oh! Ana!” He gets to his feet, swaying slightly, and goes to her. “You’re up and about, finally. I’m glad.” He matches her pace, staring at their surroundings.

Anarchaia jumps at the voice, then relaxes. She smiles at the odd remark, then chuckles at his gait. “I think you’ve had too much to drink, mister…?”

Taveth snerks. “Mister? You’re mistering me?” He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Where’s the ‘oh, I’m great, Tav’? You missed a rather glorious drink, though I’m sure you know what it tastes like.” He grins at her. “And all this time, I’ve been the one making the drinks. I feel so used.”

Her smile grows wider on one end and she decides to play along. “Oh, right. How could I forget? Though I have a confession to make—Tav, was it?—I’m not the one who made your drink.” She chuckles. “Are you a barkeep?”

“The deceit!” He furrows his brow. “I don’t think I’ll ever be free of the Nightheart taverns. Father will just keep swooping in. ‘Taveth, I need you in Ironforge tonight,’” he mimics. “As though I’m not allowed to have aspirations that don’t involve serving drinks. And it’s only me, too. The others have the excuse of being important members of society.” He looks around, then smiles at her. “Where are we going?”

Fingertips to her lips, another small chuckle escapes her as she observes his dramatic behavio r. “My house? Are you not escorting me home, Mr. Taveth?”

He gives her a funny look. “Is that where you’re going? I’m sorry if you’d wanted to go alone. Just…shouldn’t go wandering alone. Right?” Something stirs within his chest and he looks at her, then away as his cheeks warm further.

She gives him a genuine smile and hums in agreement. “I used to have a nightly escort, but since we’ve broken up I’ve been walking home on my own. It’s a comfort having that security again. Thank you. Are you from around here? You’re a high elf, right? Are you from Stormwind?”

Taveth’s smile wavers. “Oh… Oh, you’re… Eh heh.” He clears his throat and pushes away the awkward, unfamiliar feeling rising in him. “Stormwind, yes. I’m, um, just passing through.”

Her eyes light up the slightest bit. “That’s awesome! I’ve never been there. I hear the water in the harbor there is somehow crystal clear. Is that true?” She catches herself, then turns away and nervously brushes her hair behind her ear. “Heh. Sorry. Guess you think I’m kind of a nerd, now…”

Taveth grins wide. “You’re quite all right. Never apologize for curiosity.” He extends an elbow for her to take. “The water is clear most of the year, yes, but the tides can stir up the sediment to make it a bit murky. Still beautiful, though.”

The albino girl grins coyly and takes his arm. “Are the people there nice? What’s the weather like? Have you ever met the High King?”

Taveth chuckles. “I avoid the people, the weather is typically sunny, and I’ve been friends with the royal family for generations. What about you? How do you like living here? Do you think you’ll ever leave?” He finds he can’t tear his eyes from her face and deep down it bothers him, but he’s unsure why.

She hums in thought, then shrugs. “Yeah, I think I’d like to leave someday. But with my skin condition it’s hard to find places that are dark as often as this place is. It gets depressing, but you get used to it.” She smiles. “Your family owns a tavern in Ironforge? I bet it’s super profitable.” She laughs.

He nods and takes a moment to blink at how her laugh makes him feel. He furrows his brow, concerned, but says nothing of it. “Ironforge, Stormwind, and Dalaran, yes.” The elf brushes a clump of white hair behind her ear. “I’m sure you’ll leave one day. See the world. Go on adventures.”

Her eyes light up even brighter. “ _Dalaran?!_ ” She grabs his hand. “Do you know Antonidas?! Have you met him?”

Taveth laughs nervously. “Oh. Heh. I-I haven’t been to the Dalaran tavern, yet.” He stumbles over uneven ground, crashing into her side.

She catches him with both arms. When she catches his eye, she flushes and smiles. “Looks like I’m escorting you.”

He straightens in embarrassment and laughs nervously. “Should I lie and say it was the drinks?”

She bites her lip and helps him straighten. “As opposed to…?”

“Being unbearably clumsy,” he admits. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground. “Why did you let me walk with you?” he asks suddenly.

Her smile widens. “Maybe I thought you were a good fit… For the job, that is.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously, while one eyebrow raises. “I could be an axe murderer, you know.”

She giggles. “I’ve never known an axe murderer to be so artistic. Then again, I’ve never known an axe murderer. Why? Do you want to kill me?”

“Quite the opposite,” he says. He yawns wide as his eyelids blink heavily. “What do you do in your spare time?” Taveth asks, hoping conversation will keep him from passing out under the nearest tree.

“Oh,” she says, flushing, “nothing crazy. Reading, sewing, and playing the piano mostly. How about you?”

“You saw it. Heh. I’m not a very interesting person.” He remembers her playing in Karazhan and smiles brightly. “I bet you’re amazing at the piano, hmm?”

Her flush deepens. “I guess I’m pretty good…” She gives a small laugh. “I bet your girlfriend gets beautifully hand drawn pictures of herself.”

Taveth cringes down at her, then redirects his gaze forward. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking for the drawing?”

She blinks with a start. “O-oh! No! It was more of a not-so-subtle way of asking if you had a girlfriend.”

He chuckles drunkenly and shakes his head. “I fail to see the relevance, but, if you really must know, no. I don’t have…anyone. But, just because…” He retrieves his journal and carefully tears out the page with the sketch of her. “Here. I can always draw another.”

She blinks down at the paper, then waves a hand. “I-I couldn’t. How could you draw another if I never see you again?”

Taveth also stares at the paper, then at her. “I already tore it out, though. And I’ve a good memory. Please, it’s a gift.” He pushes it closer to her.

She hesitates for a moment, then takes the paper and smiles shyly. “Thanks. Heh.”

He wraps an arm behind her shoulders and gives her a tight hug, pressing his cheek to her temple. “Of course. What are friends for?”

Her cheeks warm and she threads her arm behind him to pull him close as well. “I guess we’re friends now, right? I mean, you drew a picture of me and are walking me home, so…”

He hums, his eyes warm and heavy with drink and sleep. “You’re my best friend, Ana.”

Though confused, she chuckles beneath him. “Not sure I’m okay with letting you walk back alone, Mr. Taveth.”

He chuckles. “Nightheart. But Taveth is fine.” He inhales deeply, catching the faint scent of smoke on the night air. “Well, you have to let me walk back alone, or we just walked all the way to your house for no reason.” He lightly sets his fingertip on her nose.

She titters into fingertips. “But what if you don’t make it back? Also, what if I never see you again?” she says as the faint lights of her home come into view.

Taveth chuckles. “Then you’ve a drawing to remember me by. But, uh…I have a feeling we’ll see each other again. One day. Maybe a year from now, maybe twenty.”

Anarchaia nods as they reach the short pathway leading up to her door. A white cat leaps down from the awning and makes a noise of greeting as it comes to investigate Taveth. “Thanks for walking me home. This was a lovely first date,” the girl says.

Taveth smiles, then gives the girl a strange look. He then laughs and pats her hair. “First date? Is that what you call it when someone follows you home like a puppy?”

“There aren’t many cute, single guys around here,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back. She looks up at him through her snowy lashes. “I take what I can get.”

“Mmm. Poor choice here. You deserve much better than that, you know.” He turns to look at her house and smiles. “Charming. I like it.”

She chuckles outright. “It’s the biggest house in the area. Though I imagine the heir to a tavern chain has a bigger one.” She smiles softly and inches forward. “And I don’t think I do. You seem like a nice enough guy. Maybe you’ll come back to the tavern sometime?”

He turns back to her, his goofy smile still crooked on his face. “Well, I’ll be there tomorrow, heh. Does that count?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I won’t be in until seven at night. Will you be there?”

Taveth shrugs. “Not sure. May have moved on by then, unless my sister does something stupid. Which she’s prone to do.” He glances at the house again. “I should let you go inside. Have a good night, Ana.”

Anarchaia bites her lip in thought for a second. “W-well. Since this was our first date and I’ll never see you again…” She steps to him and leans up. “Maybe we end it the traditional way?” Her lips inch closer to his.

Taveth stares at her for a minute, his eyes wide. Something tugs at the back of his mind—the odd feeling from before. He takes a nervous breath and leans forward to press his lips onto her waiting ones. His hand reaches up to cup her jaw in his palm as the other pushes her closer at the small of her back. She sighs against his lips and gently urges him against the lamppost. Her hands wander up to grab the front of his vest and pull him closer, then drift downward to his belt buckle. As his fingers thread through the white tresses of the girl, the back of his mind stirs with confusion. However, his sudden desire for her is stronger, so he kisses her passionately.

The human pulls away and smiles, breathless. “Ever done it outside before?”


	37. Chapter 36

Jorick shifts his belt of daggers over his hips as he steps out into the cool Duskwood air. He scratches at an arm and throws a glance up at what little of the moon he can see before stepping east down the path.

“Rather late for a stroll alone in the woods,” Koltira says from the trees. “You wouldn’t be off to do something stupid, now, would you?”

Jorick goes rigid, then quickly relaxes. He slowly turns. “I reckon that depends on your definition of _stupid_.”

“Something like try to save Ana.” He steps onto the road and folds his arms over his chest, blizzard eyes staring the human down.

He inhales through his nose and looks away before nodding. “Yeah, actually, I am. I gotta fix what I fucked up. And…what? You’re here to heroically stop me because you love her so much?”

Koltira’s eyes shift left and right along the path. “Actually, I was going to heroically save her, because I love her so much. But I guess now I’m not doing it alone.” He pats the man’s bicep. “Come on, let’s work fast, before she realizes I’m not just having a drink.”

Jorick blinks, then follows. “You’re…just willing to give her up that easily?”

Koltira purses his lips. “I’m not giving her up. I’m saving her life and I’m going to tell her about us and about Khadgar. Put her on the path for the life she has now, but…actually giving her _life._ ” He purses his lips and glares through the canopy at the small slivers of moon that peeks through. “What do you mean by fix your mistake?”

“If I weren’t good at keeping secrets, I’d have more fingers,” Jorick says. “I just happen to know where Flayblade and his goons hang out.”

Koltira’s eyebrow raises. “Who’s Flayblade?”

“The man who killed her,” he responds simply.

“You two are finally getting along, hm?” Grimory says from the side of the path as the two nearly pass him completely.

Koltira’s shocked gaze snaps to Jorick. “You—” His gaze snaps to Grimory next. “The fuck are you doing out here?”

Grimory folds his arms over his glowing tattoos. “Following Taveth to make sure he gets back all right. The fuck are _you_ doing out here?”

Koltira narrows his eyes. “Where did Taveth go?”

“Saw him walking with Ana. Tavern Ana.”

Jorick’s eyelids lower. “Guess he’s already doing the job for us,” he mutters to the man beside him.

“So I’ll ask again,” Grimory continues, “where are you two going?”

The men glance at one another.

“Jorick wants to get an old dagger back from some asshole. I figured some backup wouldn’t hurt.” Koltira shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Bullshit,” Grimory spits. “Sound carries pretty easily on these trails at night. You wanna fuck everything up.”

“Or unfuck it,” Jorick corrects with a shrug.

“You two really don’t care what happens? She’d probably never run into you or me, even with a stupid note, yeah?” he says to Koltira. “Maybe _I_ want to keep my memories with her. “

Koltira folds his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed. “Maybe that just makes me want to do it more.”

Grimory scoffs in disgust. “You really are just the most spiteful asshole. Did you even ask her how she felt about any of this?”

“Not particularly,” Jorick admits.

“Maybe I did ask her and she didn’t give me a solid answer,” Koltira lies. “Go back to the inn or fetch Taveth. Either way, stay out of our way.” He shoves past Grimory.

The demon hunter grabs him by the upper arm. “Or else what?”

He grips the Illidari by the wrist to pry his hand off him. “You really want to get into this again? While you’ve been drinking? Go back to the fucking room and mind your own business.”

Grimory’s arm morphs and the claws dig into the elf’s arm. He narrows his burning eyes. “I recall winning last time. How are you even so sure your dumb plan is going to work? It all rides on her dying, don’t you get that?”

“Having Alisbeth step in front of my sword doesn’t count as winning.” He grits his teeth, not making it visibly known how much the claws are hurting him. “She wants to be alive, Grim. I just want to grant her wish.”

“No, she wants to be with _you_ , you stupid cockbite.” His grip tightens. “I know I don’t defend her much since meeting you two, but this is crossing the line for me, yeah? Now get back to the tavern before I fly you there myself.” His gaze turns on Jorick who gives a nervous grin. “That goes for you, too, old man.”

“Don’t you fucking try to tell me what she wants!” Koltira snarls. He reaches for the Illidari’s throat with his free hand.

Grimory narrows his eyes and lifts his chin as he’s grabbed. “Yeah? Why’s that? Because you know so much better?” He grits his fangs as the fingers tighten around his throat. “You want to know what might happen…if you fuck everything up? She could stay here…in this shithole forest. Grow up…have some kids with a drunkard…who beats her every night.” He tightens his own grasp, cold blood trickling around his claws. “Or die anyway…and not…come back…”

Jorick steps forward, hands up. “Fellas, we don’t have to get any more physical over this. Surely we can come to some sort of consensus?”

Koltira tightens his grip even more, his glare deepening. “She could also end up going to Dalaran and being happy. With or without me.” His fingers loosen before he completely strangles the Illidari. “You’re really going to stand there and tell me you don’t want to fix her past? That you wouldn’t change shit and risk losing this future, just to make the one you love happy?” He scoffs and releases him, jerking his arm to free it from the claws digging into his flesh. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t actually love anything besides booze and loose women.”

The Illidari steps away as well when the two release one another. He rubs at his bruised throat and scoffs. “Not even close to true. I cared for Ana—a lot—before you and Ali strode in on your deathcharger. And trust me, the thought of saving Ali has crossed my mind. And Illith’ra. But I won’t. You know why? Because everything happens for a reason.” He shakes his head and looks at the two men before him. “Are you even thinking about the look on her face if she knew you were doing this?”

The human sobers and folds his arms, looking away. “Yeah. But…the consequences would outweigh that.”

The death knight sneers. “Fuck you. You don’t care about any of them. Not really. Or else why would you let anything get in the way of their happiness? Ana deserves to live. She deserves a child.” He grips his arm to stop the bleeding. “But you just want to get your rocks off to memories of her that you denied cherishing up until this point. Back then you couldn’t have cared less. Now you’re pissed you made the wrong choice.”

Grimory growls and clenches his fists. “That’s not it! I care about everything after that, too! Getting to reunite with Alisbeth! Meeting my daughter!” He scowls and takes a second to calm himself. “This isn’t just about Ana. It’s about all of us, yeah? The shit we’ve been through as a team.”

“That’s right, your precious daughter. The one who is in Stormwind right now without her real father, right? You really don’t want to get a message to yourself in this time and maybe have a life with her?” He drops his hands at his sides in defeat. “You could all change your lives for the better, every single one of you. It’s too late for me in this time line, and yet I’m the only idiot besides Ali and this fool that wants to try.” He motions at the human beside him.

Grimory’s jaw works through the things he wants to say, but he swallows them. “For selfish reasons. Both of you.” He snorts a laugh through his nose, though he doesn’t smile. “If you go back now I won’t tell Ana what you were planning.”

Jorick gives Koltira an empathetic look and tucks his hands in his pockets. “But if we don’t, there’s no Ana to tell.”

Grimory gives him a look. “Unless nothing changes until we go back, yeah? Then you deal with her hating your living—and unliving—guts until the mission is over.”

Koltira s wallows hard, a knot forming in his throat at the thought of his last days spent with Anarchaia being ones in which she hates him. “Fuck you. She deserves better.” He turns on his heel and strides back to the inn as though if he doesn’t hurry, she’ll disappear.

Grimory watches him go, then looks at Jorick. “Well?”

The human inhales and taps a foot as he thinks. “Welp. Can’t say I’m much of a match for a magical demonic elf, so I guess from whence I came, I go,” he responds with a shrug and turns to follow Koltira.

The demon hunter sighs in relief, then turns back down the road east to look for Taveth. Grimory stops and flushes when he’s close enough to realize what the two are doing. His slit pupils avoid the girl’s hand between them and he clears his throat. A small part of him almost wants to leave them be, but he doesn’t. “Tav, what are you doing?”

Anarchaia jumps and turns to see the glowing eyes and symbols of the demon hunter.

Taveth’s face drains of color as he sees Grimory. Then his skin flushes a deep red as he freezes in place. “Uh—We—I—I w-walked her home? H-heh…”

The Illidari lifts his eyebrows. “You’re doing a lot more than that, yeah?” His eyes settle on the girl and he sighs before looking back at the scholar. “Put yourself away and let’s get you back to the tavern. Before you do something stupid, too.”

Anarchaia pouts and buckles his belt back up for him, then steps away. She smiles. “Next time. Mr. Taveth. Maybe I’ll visit you in Stormwind.”

“Yeah don’t do that,” Grimory says blankly.

Taveth swallows nervously. “G-Grim, could you just… Uh… Few more minutes?” His brow furrows at himself. Slowly he brings his satchel around to cover his groin. “O-or not. Heh.” He frowns at Anarchaia and forces the words from his mouth. “I-I’m sorry. I… I drank too much, Ana. I-it wouldn’t be wise to go to Stormwind. I have to go.” He slowly backs away from her to meet the demon hunter, his fists gripped around the leather of the bag over his front so tightly it would scream if it was living.

The girl clasps her hands at her front and watches him go. She visibly deflates in disappointment. “Right. Sorry for taking advantage of you. Have a good night.” She gives a small smile, then turns to continue into her house.

“Bye!… Ana,” Taveth shouts after her. He turns his attention to the road under his feet, doing everything in his power to not look at the other man. Grimory gives him a sideways glance of disapproval. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Koltira. Come on.”

“I don’t know… Eh… Sh-she… Maybe I’m just too drunk? I don’t…understand. Please don’t tell _anyone_. Please.”

The demon hunter nods. “I won’t.” He scrunches his face in confusion. “But why her? Do you have a thing for our Ana, too? Thought you were into men…”

Taveth shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, a look of bewilderment on his face. “I… I don’t know. I’m not interested in other women, that I know of.” He frowns deeply and sulks. “I think I’m…”

Grimory blinks slowly down at him, studying his face. “You’re…?”

Taveth’s mouth opens and closes several times. He cringes and takes a breath. “I think I…” he deflates and shrugs, “I’m just going crazy, I guess.”

Grimory shrugs a shoulder. “You know you can trust me, yeah? I won’t judge you.”

The high elf lets out a long, agonized sigh. “I know. I do trust you. I just… I have to be crazy, right? To suddenly…beinlovewithher,” he mumbles the last part.

Grimory’s eyes widen the tiniest bit and he clears his throat. “I, uh, guess you two are good for each other, and you’d probably make a better boyfriend than Koltira, but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Taveth puts up his hands defensively, his eyes wide. “I know! I don’t want to rep— Wait, you really think so?” He gets a dreamy look on his face, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “She’s so wonderful, isn’t she? Do… Do you think she’d really… N-no, that’s crazy. Heh. She has Koltira. What chance would I even have.” His dreamy look remains, even though he’s talking himself down.

Grimory’s brow knits over his glowing green eyes and his lower lids raise. “Did something happen to you? You’re acting… Weird…er.” He shakes his head and sets a hand on Taveth’s shoulder. “Just don’t do anything that’ll get you punched, yeah?”

Taveth shrugs. “Nothing. Just the drinks.” His brow furrows. “You don’t think Ana would… No. She would never use potions, right? Heh. She’s too good of a person for that.”

The demon hunter’s expression intensifies. “You have to be a bad person to use potions?”

Taveth’s eyes go wide. “Wh-what? No! Not any run-of-the-mill potions. But potions that influence another’s thoughts and feelings? Those are actually illegal. Ana wouldn’t… Heh.” He runs his fingers through his hair, slightly relieved to at least be done with the physical discomfort. “Perhaps I’ll have to ask her?” He looks over at the man, still feeling the same interest in him as before—though it has mostly diminished since getting closer to Eophen—and frowns. _Why just Ana? I’m going insane._

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and looks away. “You can. She probably didn’t, though. Is that why you wanted to walk her home? For some…face time?”

Taveth blushes and frowns. “N-no! I thought she was _our_ Ana! Thought she was better and…I didn’t want her wandering off alone. Sh-she’s the one that— Is that why she was asking if I have a girlfriend?”

The Illidari’s attention quickly flicks back to the scholar. “She asked if you have a girlfriend? Did she repeatedly comment on how single she was? Though it doesn’t matter much. It was clear how interested she was in you…” He purses his lips. “Our Ana isn’t nearly that…pushy, yeah? Every time we had sex, it was me initiating and her being…Ana.”

Taveth shrugs, his attention on the road under foot. “I wouldn’t say she was pushy. Confident, yeah. It was actually beautiful. _She_ is beautiful. Both versions of her.” He holds up a finger as though stopping a comment from Grimory before it happens. “I’ve always thought that. I can think someone is aesthetically pleasing without…this nonsense.” He lets out a long sigh, frustrated that he can’t stop feeling that way about her, while still unsure if he’s been dosed with a love potion or if maybe for some reason he really does love the mage.

The tavern comes into view. “I’m not sure how to check something like that, yeah? Maybe your sister has some sort of potion detection spell.” He glances up at the still dark sky. “In any case, why not try sleeping it off? Maybe if you still feel that way in the morning, it’s not magic?”

Taveth nods, then shakes his head. “You’re right. I do need sleep.” He frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I do miss Eophen, though.” He stares ahead at the inn. “Do you know which room might have an empty bed? Please don’t say Ana’s. I…don’t know how I can look at her right now.” His eyes go wide as a realization hits him. “She’s going to remember this, isn’t she? Oh, gods.”

Grimory hums in thought. “Most likely. But knowing her, she won’t say anything, either.” He holds the door open for him. “She, Kolt, Bae, and Kel are in twelve. You, the old man, and myself are in thirteen.”

Taveth nods, the wear of the night catching up to him. “Who’s sharing?”

The elf shrugs. “Up to you. You’re the smallest.”

“I’ll share, then. You can decide who I’ll share with, I suppose. I promise not to cuddle anyone, heh.”

“You can share with me, then. Not sure how close you and him have gotten on this trip, but I figure your awkward ass would prefer familiarity.”

They reach the proper room and Taveth sets his bag in a corner, then removes only his vest.

Grimory removes his simple linen shirt and throws it on the chair, then lies in bed as though he’s waited for this moment all day. “Ugh.”

The high elf crawls tentatively into the bed and wraps himself in the blanket. “Thank you…for coming after me. You’re a good friend. Good night Grimory.”

“If you say so. Good night, Taveth.”

~~

Anarchaia furrows her brow as Koltira quietly closes the door behind him. “What happened to your arm?!” she asks in a whispered yell, holding her hand out.

The death knight sighs, eyeing the sleeping couple on the other bed. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just a…wolf out there. Died before I could heal myself.” He sits beside her on the bed, then pulls her close and closes his eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

She frowns and gently inspects the damage despite his nonchalant attitude. “Of course. I love you, too.” Her brow knits slightly. “Why do you say that? Did something happen?”

“I just… Seeing you in this time… You seemed so happy. I want you to be happy, Ana.” He sets the backs of his cool fingers on her cheek.

She furrows her brow upward and grabs his hand while looking up into his eyes. She shakes her head. “I wasn’t that happy. My parents fought all the time. I had no friends. I couldn’t go out during the day.” Her face softens. “Now I’m a real mage of Dalaran. I have lots of friends I would gladly die again for.” She smiles. “And a man who loves me for who I am. Why would I give any of that up?”

“Not even for a child?” he asks on a whisper.

Her smile falters just the littlest bit. She sighs deeply through her nose and shakes her head. “Not even for a child.”

He presses his forehead to hers and closes his eyes. _Why don’t I believe you?_ He lets out a long breath and threads his fingers through hers. “As long as you’re happy.”

Her smile returns and she nods against his head. “I am. And look!” She extends one of her legs, then visibly struggles to keep it up before it falls back against the bed. “Almost better.”

Koltira smiles softly, her recovery not easing his unrest from earlier. “That’s great. Won’t have to be carried around anymore.”

Kel’ori moans from the other side of the room. “Shut _up._ Some people are trying to sleep!”

He makes a rude gesture behind her back. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Anarchaia flushes in embarrassment and lowers her voice. “Maybe we should just pretend to sleep like we do at home,” she whispers and pulls her robes off before pulling herself beneath the blankets.

Koltira chuckles and tucks the mage into his arms. “Goodnight, Ana,” he whispers.


	38. Chapter 37

In the morning, Kel’ori wakes and shoots a look at the two undead in the bed as she passes, then goes to get breakfast. Grimory and Jorick are already downstairs—the former mostly there to keep an eye on the latter. The two look up as Kel’ori enters.

“Good morning,” the demon hunter says as he stabs a small sausage. “Bae is still asleep I assume.”

The high elf nods lightly. “Yeah. Slept right through the talking dead. Taveth?”

“Yeah. He could sleep through anything.” He points up to the floorboards with his sausage. “Still asleep after his late- night excursion.”

Jorick makes a face beside him but says nothing.

She tilts her head as she swallows a sip of orange juice. “Where did he go?”

“Walked Ana home. Old Ana.”

Kel’ori gives a little smirk then thanks the waiter as he brings her food. “So, uh, anything happen or just…walking her home?”

Grimory looks up at her as he chews, suspicion in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you were gone so long. Either she lives far away or something happened. Right?”

Taveth drops onto the bench beside his sister, his eyes narrow, sunken slits surrounded by dark circles and his hair unbrushed and loose about his face. “Anyone else sleep like hell?”

Kel’ori stops a barmaid to get him a cup of black coffee and a plate of food, then giggles at him. “I slept mostly fine, thanks. Bel is too big to share the bed, so he was in the armchair. Ahh, it was nice not having him kicking me in the stomach.”

Grimory’s eyes linger on Kel’ori for another second before he looks down at his eggs. “He’s growing pretty quickly, don’t you think?”

She purses her lips tightly. “Don’t ta—”

“He is,” Taveth interrupts loudly. He gives his sister a look. “Must be a demon thing, right?”

“Taveth,” she warns.

“Can you just stop being horrible for one day? I’m absolutely begging you. I really don’t even understand how we’re related.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just never mention him again, yeah? Like he doesn’t even exist. Have all the closure you want. In fact, have mine, too.” Grimory stands, throws coins on the table, then exits through the front door.

The high elf casts a disgusted look at Kel’ori, then stands and follows the Illidari outside.

Kel’ori sticks her nose in the air, not particularly caring what their opinions are on the matter.

Jorick huffs a laugh through his nose and swallows a swig of ale. “You sure are harsh on him. Mind if I ask why?”

Her eyes flash at the human. “His demon is the reason I have a half demon baby and _Grim_ spent the entire pregnancy trying to convince me to get rid of him. He sent Alisbeth to try stabbing me in my sleep. And _suddenly_ he’s interested? No. I don’t believe it for a second.”

Jorick’s marred eyebrows raise. “That’s…a lot to unpack. So…you and him…but he didn’t want to. He really sent Alisbeth to kill you?”

She sneers. “He lost control. Neither of _us_ wanted to. So, no, I don’t want him anywhere near my son, but only because of the monster inside him.” She thanks the barmaid sweetly as Taveth’s food is set on the table.

Jorick nods and hums in thought. “So he himself deserves to be punished because of what’s inside him. Got it.” He shoves the last bit of ham in his mouth.

The mage glares at the human. “It’s like you’re only hearing part of the conversation at a time. He didn’t want anything to do with Bel. At all. He wanted him dead. What happens if I let him close and he just…” She drops her silverware onto the plate and leaves as tears well in her eyes, heading back to her room.

Jorick lifts his eyebrows again as he stares after her. He blinks slowly, then stabs his fork into the bacon on her abandoned plate. “Light above,” he mumbles softly.

~ * ~

“You okay?” Taveth asks, coming up beside the demon hunter.

“Yeah,” the other lies. “Just…I don’t know.” He runs a hand over his blond hair. “I’m conflicted.”

“About?” Taveth presses. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“About Bel. I…really don’t want to care, but I do. I don’t know if it’s _him_ or _me_ , yeah?” He shakes his head. “Forget I said anything.”

“Do you think you care because, in a way, he’s a part of you, too? Or are you afraid of _him_ getting out again just to…do something to Bel?” Taveth asks, choosing his words carefully.

The demon hunter shakes his head. “Kath…seems to _like_ Bel. He’s the one who told me to save him from Alisbeth.” He pauses. “And…I don’t know. Maybe I do care. It is technically half me. Half? A quarter?”

Taveth nods in thought. “Quarter, I suppose? I mean, did you ever apologize to Kel? For trying to force her to get rid of him, of course.” He takes a deep breath, preparing to be diplomatic, and hoping the other man sees it that way. “Remember how both Alisbeth and I reacted when you tried to insinuate Diori wasn’t yours? We both were pretty set on you not seeing her again, since it seemed you didn’t want anything to do with her. You didn’t want anything to do with Bel, and now you do, but you never apologized or even spoke to my sister about it. When have you had the time, though?”

“I have apologized! Twice! Even so, I don’t know if I do! My head says no, but a part of me feels the same way I do about Diori and I don’t know if that part is being controlled by _him_ or not, yeah?” He sighs.

He shrugs and sighs. “Maybe just wait it out. It’s only been a month. Not like you have to decide immediately, right?”

“She had to,” Grimory says despondently, then shakes his head and pats Taveth on the shoulder. “We’ll see how it plays out. Thanks, Tav.”

“She had to what?” Taveth asks, not sure what to think of the situation.

“Had to make a decision.” He sighs.

“Grim, if you really think you’re partly the father of Bel’theas…then I think you should say something to her. If you want some sort of involvement. Otherwise just…keep _him_ away from the baby. Right?”

“ I like to think I’ve done a well enough job of keeping him away from everyone…” A flash of the incident strikes through his mind and he growls. “Y’know what? Never mind. I don’t care. No one’s ever thought I’d make a good father so maybe I won’t even bother.” He turns to Taveth and nods before heading down the path. “Thanks. I’m headed back to the barracks.”

He frowns and stomps after him. “I think you’re a great father. Kel’ori is just a brat. But if you insist on going off right this minute…then let me get my bag and I’ll join you.”

Grimory stops at the last statement and sighs before turning. “Yeah, all right. Make it quick, yeah?”

Without telling anyone else, Taveth goes back to the room and gets his bag. He stops at the counter and sets his King’s token down. “Will you accept this for the rooms and the food?” he asks the goblin as he pulls his hair back to tie it in place.

The goblin stops counting her coins and looks up at him from behind a furrowed brow. “We don’t care what idiots you choose to serve here.” She sighs as Taveth takes the token back. “That being said, business is still business. We’ll send the tab to Stormwind.”

Taveth purses his lips. “I…um… Okay. Thank you.” He exits and rushes to catch up to Grimory, ignoring the hunger pains in his stomach and the headache ringing in his ears. “Ready.”

“Great. Hold tight.” Grimory sweeps him up into his arms, outstretches his wings, then shields them from the branches with his bowed head until they’re safely in the sky.

Taveth jerks for only a second, then pulls his limbs tight. “D-don’t drop me.”

He blinks slowly. “Are you sure? I thought it’d be fun.”

“Only if you want to leave a large crater and draw attention,” Taveth chuckles. “But really, I’m not fond of heights.”

“Crater? You’d be lucky to leave a dust cloud with as little as you weigh. And don’t look down and you’ll be fine.”

“I weigh more in the meteor.” He chuckles. “All the same, I’d rather not be dropped.”

“Well I haven’t dropped anyone yet,” Grimory responds. “You’re in good hands.”

“Heh. I trust you,” Taveth says, then looks over his shoulder at the world below.

~ * ~

Koltira sighs heavily, his gaze on the high elf holding her baby and the man still passed out on the other bed. “So. This is fun.”

Anarchaia snickers into a hand. “He sure does sleep soundly. Maybe we should just throw him through the portal back?”

Kel’ori glances at the Illidari, then casts the two a look. “Or you could just not be horrible and let him sleep.”

Koltira blinks at her. <<Did she just…care about someone that isn’t her or the…child?>> He says the last word forcefully, as though not wanting to admit it’s not a monster.

Anarchaia’s eyelids lower and she rolls her eyes. <<Must be a sign of a second cataclysm.>> She shakily gets to her feet, supporting herself with a hand on the bedpost. “Could you just, maybe, like…gently nudge him?”

Kel’ori narrows her eyes, then leans forward to set Bel’theas on the bed beside the man. Before she can do anything, the infant squeals with glee and grabs Baemalen’s hair in both fists and yanks hard on the crimson tresses.

The Illidari jerks awake and hisses in pain, then realizes the culprit and gives a tired, forced chuckle. “Hey, little man. Light, the wake- up service in this inn is awful.” He tries to ease his locks from the baby’s hands.

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows. <<Right, we’re the horrible ones.>>

Kel’ori frowns and tries not to giggle. “I didn’t mean for him to do that. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” She helps to untangle the man’s hair.

Baemalen nods. “Yeah. It’s all right. I guess it’s time to get up anyway.” He stretches.

Koltira rolls his eyes. <<They should just fuck and get it over with.>>

Anarchaia titters and ushers Koltira toward the door. <<So she can have more illegitimate children then push him away?>>

The high elf smiles despite struggling against the flailing child trying to get back to Baemalen. “It’s not _that_ late in the day. These guys are just impatient.”

Koltira snorts, entertained. <<I mean, if she wants them to be illegitimate, that’s her call, I guess? Doesn’t even have to have more, if she doesn’t want to.>> He follows the undead girl from the room. “Back through the portal? So soon?”

Anarchaia nods. “Yes. I really want to get more information on this dragon out of Alisbeth, and we can’t do that here. And now that I can walk again—” she trips on a step and quickly grabs the banister before falling, “—sort of, I want to exact some sort of revenge.”

Koltira wraps an arm around her waist to help keep her steady. “You? Harm someone? This I’ll need to see.” He catches sight of the human at the table surrounded by plates of food, one untouched. “Hey Jorick. Where’d everyone go?”

He shrugs in response. “Kel’ori and Grim got into it and then they stormed off. I think Grim left and took Taveth with him.” He sips his ale as though unfazed by the drama.

Anarchaia rolls her eyes. “It’ll be a cold day on Argus before those two get along. Even despite what happened.” She sighs. “Are you set to go?”

Jorick hoists his small satchel of belongings onto the table. “Always.”

Koltira’s eyelids lower. “It’d be nice if we could all stick together. I’ll go tell those two it’s time to head out, I guess.” He leaves the mage there and goes back to the room.

Jorick watches him go, then turns his green eyes on the mage as she shakily settles before him. “Got your land legs back?”

She chuckles. “As opposed to my _Outlands legs_? Yeah, for the most part.” She sighs and sets a cheek on her knuckles. “I’ve got a few choice words for alternate Ali.”

“Words, eh? Not spells?”

“Let’s make it both,” she responds darkly and takes a drink from his stein.

“Get your shit, it’s time to go,” Koltira says to the high elf mage.

Kel’ori scoffs indignantly. “You don’t have to be an ass about it. And I thought we were staying longer! I was going to go to Stormwind!”

He glares at her. “I will tie you up if you even try. Ali fucked up history enough for all of us. No one else is allowed to step out of line.”

She sticks her nose in the air. “You’re an asshole. Now go tend to your wounded animal.”

The death knight returns, pausing behind to watch the two interacting. He purses his lips after a moment, then goes to the table. “If they’re not out in a minute, I’ll need some rope. Kel was planning a trip to Stormwind.”

Anarchaia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Is she stupid? Does she not think of the repercussions?”

Jorick glances at Koltira, then clears his throat. “Right. Silly.”

The death knight narrows warning eyes at the human. “Obviously she doesn’t, does she?” He looks behind him as he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. “Let’s get going.”

Kel’ori sighs and adjusts the blanket on Bel’theas’s head, atte mpting to keep it on him as he fidgets, trying to get to the Illidari, still. “Immediately? Really? Gods, why are you so impatient?”

“Because we have people in the basement who need to eat?” he hisses through his teeth.

Baemalen gives Kel’ori a sympathetic smile and rests a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. Maybe you can come back another _time_ and show me.” He chuckles at his own joke.

Anarchaia stands. “Perhaps.” She lifts a hand and a portal instantly swirls to life, a wobbling image of the Dark Portal in its center. “All aboard.”

Kel’ori gives the man a wry smile as the others go through the portal. “Are you saying you’re coming back with us?”

“Back to the Outlands? Yeah. I’ve…honestly been thinking about…” He sighs. “Going back to the temple. Maybe asking for another chance.”

On the other side, Koltira waits patiently for the others, eyeing the hostile, but disinterested demons circling the crater and perching at the lip. “Are we sure Grim and Taveth came here? And didn’t go off to do…gods know what.”

Anarchaia gives a small giggle into a hand. “You think they ran off together?”

Jorick snerks. “They headed this direction. And Grimory isn’t one to mess with the past, so it’s the most likely case.”

Kel’ori’s smile falls. “Oh. Okay. I guess…” She shakes her head, clearing away the thoughts she was planning on saying aloud. “Let’s go.” She steps through the portal and sighs at the dead land on the other side.

Koltira smirks. “Yeah I don’t think he’d do anything stupid. What could he do in that area, besides go to Stormwind?”

“Visit Diori twenty years early using Taveth to get into the house?” Kel’ori suggests.

The death knight blinks. “Uh. Would he…?”

“I’m sure he’d like to, but Grim is probably the only reliable one of all of us,” Anarchaia says, then opens a second portal back to the barracks. “Even Taveth wanted to kill the other Ali without knowing the consequences…”

“And you don’t?” Jorick asks casually as he steps through.

“No!” she calls after him, then pouts. “I just wanna talk.”

“Didn’t you say something about torture? Or am I thinking about me?” Koltira asks.

“I’d like to help with the torture,” Kel’ori says, raising her hand.

Anarchaia points to him. “Perhaps after the mission.” Her finger wanders to Kel’ori. “No.” She steps in after Jorick, followed by Baemalen.

Koltira and Kel’ori both narrow their eyes after the mage, then at each other.

“I meant torturing Ali,” Kel’ori says.

“So did I.” Koltira steps through the portal and she follows.

Alisbeth saunters around the side of the barracks with a bundle of wood in her arms as she hums a gentle tune. She stops, eyes wide as the others appear in front of her. She looks around, then at the wood as she twitches. After a moment she drops the wood and takes off running.

Koltira grits his teeth but doesn’t give chase.

“Wait. If she’s out, then…” Kel’ori casts her wide, blue eyes on the others.

“Yeah,” Jorick says as he comes back around the side of the building. “They’re gone.”

Anarchaia’s fists clench. “I knew we should have left someone here to watch them,” she hisses. “What are we meant to do, now? We have zero leads on who this dragon even is and even less information on _where_ he is!”

Kel’ori purses her lips at the retreating death knight. “Anyone going to stop her?”

Koltira growls and strides inside. “Too fast for me.”

The elf mage sighs dramatically. “Well, I certainly can’t. Guess this is goodbye. Good riddance.” She follows the man inside.

Anarchaia sighs as well and follows the others in. “I have a feeling she’ll be back.” She sets herself in the oversized armchair and rubs at a tired leg. “We can always send Grim.”

“Send me where? And why is Ali out?” Grimory sets Taveth gingerly back on his feet. “Also you all got back quickly.”

“They’re gone,” Koltira says. “All of them.” He cocks his head at the corner where Byfrost stands alone without the polearm. “Any weird new memories yet?”

Taveth’s sights rest on Anarchaia. He clears his throat and grips his bag, then leaves the room, a blush crawling up his neck. His sister cocks an eyebrow with interest.

The mage in the chair catches the odd behavior, then furrows her brow and removes her mask as a new image fades into her head. A blush hits her as well and she swallows. “Yeah,” she replies quietly to the question, though it wasn’t meant for her.

Grimory closes his eyes for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, actually. I don’t even…” A pain strikes through his head and he rests a hand against a temple. “I don’t remember anything.”

Koltira furrows his brow. “What do you mean? Anything at all or just nothing from yesterday?”

Kel’ori eyes the blushing mage. She smirks and sets Bel’theas on the carpet, then goes after Taveth. “Everything all right?” she asks.

He clears his throat as he pulls on a clean shirt. “I’m fine.”

“If you have something to say to someone, maybe you should just do it,” she says, shrugging. She leans back casually to hide any ulterior motives she may have for questioning him.

He shakes his head and looks away. “Nope. If I ignore it long enough it’ll go away. Just like you.” He sits in a hammock and retrieves his private journal to begin writing his thoughts on the previous night.

She scoffs and opens the door. “We’ll see about that,” she mutters, then sends a third charm his way. She goes and sits on the floor where the infant is wriggling around, grabbing at his toys. “He’s sure wound up about something. Anybody know what?”

Grimory continues rubbing at the side of his head. “Nothing after…” He shakes his head and groans. “I’m going to lie down.” He retreats into the next room with Taveth to do so.

Anarchaia looks up at Kel’ori and shrugs innocently. “Maybe he’s just as frustrated as the rest of us.”

Kel’ori smirks at the other woman. “Yeah. Some kind of _frustrated_.”

Anarchaia eyes the other mage in return and frowns.

Koltira breathes out a long sigh through his nostrils. “I need a drink.”

Baemalen gestures to the broken down wooden cabinet in the corner. “Help yourself. Kinda stocked it last time we went out.”

“Thanks.” Koltira takes a bottle for himself, not bothering to offer some to anyone else.

Jorick sinks to sit against a wall and shrugs off his pauldrons. “So, what now? We scour the lands looking for this illusive dragon who could be anybody? Where’s the other asshole when you need him?”

“Can we leave this damned time period already?” Koltira laments.

Kel’ori casts her gaze to the Illidari, then looks away. “We still have a lot to do, though. No need to be in such a hurry.”

Koltira narrows his eyes at her and takes a drink. “Gods,” he scoffs, and takes a hefty swig.

Anarchaia lifts her hands at the tension in the room. “I know it doesn’t look good for us right now but maybe something will fall into our laps?”

Jorick scoffs next. “I’m usually pretty optimistic myself, but we’re without a paddle here.”

“Well, my plan is to get drunk until we do find something,” Koltira says. “You’re all welcome to join me.”

Anarchaia gives him an endearing and patient smile. “I think I’ll—”

“Offer accepted!” Baemalen, already at the cabinet, pops off a cork to another bottle.

Koltira raises his in cheers, then settles in, fully prepared to not move for at least a day.


	39. Chapter 38

Taveth looks over at the demon hunter and frowns. “Grim? Are you okay?”

The demon hunter shrugs a shoulder, face toward the wall. “I guess. Just have a terrible headache is all. Are you?”

Taveth sighs. “I think I should tell Ana.”

Grimory knits his brow at the wall. “And what will that accomplish?”

Taveth lets out another long breath. “Koltira doesn’t deserve her,” he says quietly. Then, louder, he says, “Anything I can do to help your head?”

Grimory sits up on an elbow at the first comment, then purses his lips at the second. “Tav, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget about it, yeah? I’d hate to see you get your head caved in.”

Stays quiet for a long time, his mind racing. “I’m not afraid of him.”

Grimory’s eyelids lower and he too remains quiet for a long beat. “You’re outta your mind. Don’t come crying to me when you become death knight food.” He lies back down.

He narrows his eyes over at the other man. “I’ll be fine.” He shrugs and leans back to stare at the ceiling. “So, nothing I can do to help you. Got it.”

“Right. It’s just a headache. I’ll live, yeah? Just need some rest.”

Taveth crosses his arms and huffs in frustration. He decides to say nothing as his mind digests the advice of not saying anything to the mage. He grumbles and gets up, taking his journal and pen into the side room, writing in it to occupy his time while the fire slowly heats the bath water.

~~

Anarchaia stares into the ether for a long time, a thumbnail between her teeth and a troubled look on her face. It’s many minutes before Jorick nudges her ankle with a boot. She blinks down at him in a slight daze.

“Thought I’d pull you back to reality. You okay?”

She nods tentatively. “Just…weighing our options.” She sighs and stands. “None of them are very good. I think I’ll take a bath to clear my head of the negatives.” She steps into the next room, the curtain falling behind her, then jumps and covers her eyes. “O-oh! Tav. I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t know you were in here. ”

Taveth stares at the mage for a long time, his shirt in his hand, thankful he’d already secured his trousers. After a moment, he smiles. “That’s okay. I was just finishing up, anyway.” He grins in a strange sort of way, exuding much more confidence than he ever has in his entire life. Instead of pulling on his shirt, he approaches her, taking a soft lock of her white hair between his index finger and thumb. “Kind of wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

She lowers her hands, but only just enough to see him over the tips of her fingers. Her brow knits slightly at the uncharacteristic smile on his face and she blushes. Her eyes flick from his fingers—inches from his face—back to his. “About what?” she inquires nervously, forcing a smile.

“I’ve come to realize…” he moves even closer into her personal space, his hair dripping down his bare, pale chest, “that I love you.” He lifts her chin with his fingertips to angle her face toward his. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel something, too. Your past self sure did.” He smirks, playing with the urge to kiss her.

“ _Love?!_ ” Her blush intensifies and she stammers, too confused to pull away. “I-I wanted to talk to you about that—I mean—I thought—y-you—” She shakes her head and takes a hesitant step back. “What’s gotten into you?”

Taveth slips his hand at her waist and tries to pull her back to him. “Please. I’m serious. I would never lie to you, you know that. Nothing’s gotten into me, I just… It’s you, Ana. You’re the one.” He smiles sweetly at her and brushes her hair from her face. He bites his lower lip as his lavender eyes sparkle with wonder, as though looking on her is akin to beholding paradise.

She releases a ragged breath, unsure of how to react. The cords in her neck tighten as she swallows once, but her feet refuse to move. “N-no. Something’s wrong with you. You’ve been charmed. Something…”

His brow furrows at her and he frowns as he shakes his head. “I’m insulted you would think so little of me. I’ve always loved you, just not quite like this. Last night was just a wake-up call, I guess.”

She bites her lower lip as he leans closer. “T-Tav, I really do like you—y-you’re one of my best friends and I don’t want this to get weird—but I-I was a different person back then—horny, confident, and _single_ ,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry if I misled you…”

His jaw clenches tight as his lips purse. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

She blinks rapidly for a brief second, her breath hitching in her throat. “I’d like to think that’s for me to decide. Besides, I thought you liked Grim.”

Taveth shrugs apathetically. “I did. But, if I’m being honest, that ended months ago. He’s just a good friend.” His expression turns sad as he remembers the night before and his eyes find her lips. “Feelings change,” he whispers.

“They do, b-but…” She hesitates but still does not pull away. Her hands come up to his chest, yet do not push. “Y—…you could get in trouble.”

He shrugs and pulls her as close as her hands on his skin will allow. “I’m not scared.” In an instant, he decides to just go for it, and presses his lips against hers, sighing in satisfaction.

Anarchaia makes a quiet noise of surprise. Her eyes widen. Her fingers tense against his chest but she finds she cannot muster the will to push him away. Instead, her body relaxes and her eyelids flutter shut. _No, why aren’t I pushing him away? I…I think I…like this_ …

Taveth’s kisses grow slightly more passionate, his fingers threading into her hair and pressing into her waist. The curtain pushes to the side and a dark-nosed Koltira stands on the other side. His eyes narrow on the two. Taveth opens his eyes but doesn’t pull away from the mage in shock. Instead he calmly straightens and meets the death knights angry glare.

Furious, Koltira surges forward, shoving the mage to the side. His drunken fingers thump against the other man’s chest as he tries to grab a shirt that isn’t there. “What the _fuck_ —” he wraps his icy fingers around Taveth’s throat, “is going on in here?”

“You don’t deserve her,” Taveth says, a hint of fear in his eyes, though he stands his ground.

Anarchaia scrambles back to her feet after being shoved into the wall. She lurches forward to grab the death knight’s free arm with both her own. “K-Kolt, wait! It’s not what it looks like! Don’t hurt him, please!”

Koltira’s fingers tighten on Taveth’s neck until the pain causes the man to reach up and scratch at the death knight’s hand, trying to get free.

“So you _weren’t_ kissing him? Because _that’s_ what it looked like.” He shakes her from his arm and lifts the high elf until his feet no longer touch the floor. “You slimy little _fuck!_ ” he shouts.

Anarchaia wrings her hands nervously. “I-I mean— _he_ kissed _me_ …but he’s not himself! Don’t kill him!” She grabs at his arm again, tears in her eye. _“Kolt, please!”_

Baemalen stumbles into the room, just as intoxicated as the death knight, then sobers the slightest bit at the sight. “Uh…calm down?”

Just as Taveth’s eyes flutter and roll back, Koltira releases him. He bends over and rests his palms on his knees, sucking in large gulps of air. The death knight, again, shakes the mage from his arm and turns to leave.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Taveth,” he says.

The high elf looks up in time to see a large blue fist coming straight for him, and then he’s sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

Koltira clenches his fists, his entire body rigid with anger as he stares at Anarchaia. He opens his mouth to say the most hurtful thing he can think of but thinks better of it and instead leaves the room.

The mage’s hands fly to either side of her head and she grips her hair. “ _T-Taveth!_ ” Her wide, wet eyes meet Koltira’s and she braces for the worst, then gasps in a mix of relief and anguish when he says nothing. She drops to Taveth’s side when they’re alone. “Tav! Tav are you all right?!”

Baemalen bustles after Koltira. “Woah, hey, wait! What happened?”

Grimory, tired but alert appears in the doorway. “What’s going on?” he grumbles.

“Just your boyfriend putting his hands where they don’t belong,” Koltira growls as he pulls another bottle from the cabinet.

The demon hunter’s eyelids lower and he rolls his eyes. “Told him what would happen,” he mutters and returns to his hammock.

“Wait, what?” Kel’ori asks with a small laugh.

“Fuck off, Nightheart.” The death knight stomps from the building to go seethe.

“Warlock boy got a face full of fist,” Baemalen slurs, half amused and half forlorn.

Jorick lifts his eyebrows in his corner, secretly happy over the strife between the two. He whistles. “Yikes.”

Kel’ori scrambles to her feet, leaving the infant alone on the floor. “T-Tav? Oh my gods.” She runs to the back and stares wide-eyed at the scene. “Is he okay? What the hell happened?” She sets her fingers on his purpling cheekbone and cringes at the coming black eye.

Anarchaia scowls at the woman in front of her and scoops Taveth up and away from his sister. “ _You_ happened! I don’t have proof, but I know it was you!”

“ _Excuse_ me? I was in the other room! You did this to him, you little… _hussy!_ ” Kel’ori reaches over to slap the other woman.

~~

Jorick looks up as a shadow fills the doorway; Alisbeth fidgets, looking frightened and nervous as she averts her gaze. “Oh, hey. Lost puppy found its way home. Welcome back to the madness.”

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lips. “I used the bath,” she blurts, as though admitting a sin.

Jorick narrows his eyes. “Several miles away, or…?”

Alisbeth fidgets, still acting skittish. “Okaybye.” She strides out of the doorframe and back around the side of the house.

Jorick blinks slowly. “All right, bye.” He stands and goes to the other room. “Death knight girl is back if anyone cares.”

Grimory perks. “Ali? Is she okay?”

The human nods. “Jittery as always.”

~~

Anarchaia gasps as she’s struck. She tries to collect herself, but her anger and stress boil over almost instantaneously. She turns back to Kel’ori, a glare etched onto her face. “I suggest you get out of here before I do something as stupid as you just did.”

Kel’ori narrows her eyes. “Is that a threat?”

The air around the smaller mage grows noticeably heavier. Her scowl deepens. “If it has to be.”

“He’s _my_ brother,” Kel’ori hisses.

“That makes what you did even worse,” Anarchaia hisses and gets to her feet. “You know, I really thought you’d changed since having your life saved on Argus, but you’re still the most miserable, petty, obnoxious bitch—just like the others in the Hall.”

Kel’ori sneers at the woman. “I didn’t do anything. Maybe if you weren’t such a _prude_ I wouldn’t seem so bad. But no, you’re just a goody-two-shoes spoiled little brat.” Her magic wraps around Taveth’s unconscious figure. “All of this is your fault. _You_ should leave, before you make things worse.”

Anarchaia lets the unconscious scholar be taken up by his sister. “Fine.” A tear rolls down her cheek and she turns away, the pressure in the room dissipating. “You cost me the only person who actually cared for me despite what I am. I’m sure you can handle the rest of the trip yourself.” Her form swirls and disappears in a flurry of violet sparks.

Kel’ori frowns after the other mage. “Shit.” She takes Taveth into the other room and lays him in a free hammock, cringing at his eye. “Let me know if he wakes,” she says—Grimory grumbles in response— then rushes back to take the half-eaten toy from Bel’theas. She releases a heavy, exasperated sigh down at him as he objects loudly.

Baemalen ungracefully sets himself down at her side. “You okay?” he says, smile unwavering.

Kel’ori purses her lips at him. “No. I’m not okay.” She turns away to hide the moisture pooling on her lower lids. “Just go find your drinking buddy or something. I don’t need your pity.”

Baemalen’s smile grows the slightest bit reserved and he pulls his ears back. “I, uh…don’t think he wants anyone around right now. And I’m not trying to pity you…” He sets a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“If that…caveman seriously injured my brother, I’ll…” She takes a deep breath and looks up at him. “You’re drunk. Go sit down.”

The Illidari gives a small, inebriated chuckle. “I think he’ll be okay. Getting cold clocked ain’t the end of the world.” He sighs. “Though maybe caveman does need some sort of support, too…”

Kel’ori looks away, ignoring the guilt in the pit of her stomach. “He didn’t have to hit him.”

He gives a second, more uncomfortable chuckle. “Well. He’s had an entire bottle of bourbon. I’m sure it was the only option he thought he had.” He makes for the door with a strange drunken grace. “I’m going to check on him. Be right back.” He makes his way outside and searches the surrounding area, using the building for support until he finally finds the death knight near the wood pile in the back. “You doin’ okay?”

Koltira glances up at him. “Yeah. Sure. Peachy.” He takes a long swig from the bottle and glares at the horizon.

The Illidari lowers to sit on his haunches and smiles sympathetically. “Wanna talk about how peachy you feel?”

“Just getting tired of other assholes coming for the women I love. Is that so bad?” he holds out the bottle to the other man.

Baemalen falls back to sit on his hind end instead and gladly takes the bottle. He hums a laugh and drinks. “Y’know. As long as pretty girls exist, there’ll be assholes—like myself—there to tell them they’re pretty.” He winks and relinquishes the bottle again. “I don’t know either of you that well, but I’m sure you’ll work something out.” He gestures to the building behind him. “You and him, that is.”

“It’s just very…not like him. That’s what gets me. It was like someone was wearing a Taveth suit.” He puts his face in his hands and lets out a long breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t have hit him.”

“I don’t know him well enough to say if you’re right or not.” Baemalen shrugs a shoulder. “And you didn’t kill him, at least. If it were my girl, I’d have done the same to be honest.”

Koltira sighs and leans his head back. “You mean Kel?” He smirks and quirks an eyebrow up, his eyes on the other man.

He gives an embarrassed smile and more color is added to his drunken flush. “Nah, she’s too pretty to be interested in someone like me. Besides, she’s got a lot on her plate already. No room for a drunken failure.” He chuckles.

“She fucked a goblin. Pretty sure you’re not uglier than that. Plus, you never know.” He pushes a gentle fist to the man’s chest. “Maybe just drink a little less and try a little harder not to fail?”

The Illidari lifts his eyebrows at the goblin part, then chuckles. “Easier said than done, my friend.” His grin widens. “But I’m sure you have plenty of luck with the ladies. Plenty of fish and all that.”

Koltira gives a humph of a chuckle. “Once upon a time. Not since I died, though. Don’t want the others, anyway.”

~ * ~

Taveth opens his eyes, squinting at the ceiling. “Ow.”

“Told you so,” Grimory grumbles, half awake from his hammock.

Taveth rubs at his forehead with his palm. “Told me what?”

“You’d get your shit rocked,” Grimory mumbles in response.

He squints at the ceiling. “I vaguely remember something like that… A little. Maybe.” The elf leans up to look around. After a second his eyes go wide. “Oh, gods, Ana. Where’s Ana?”

Grimory sighs, clearly more interested in sleep than drama. “I don’t know, Tav. Somewhere around, I’m sure.”

Still dizzy, Taveth lays back. “You feeling okay? Anything I can do to help?”

Grimory shakes his head. “I’m fine. Maybe you should go make amends with the two of them before you get turned into a death knight, too.”

Taveth groans dramatically. “You’re saying none of that was some horrible nightmare? Ugh. Is that what it’s like to have someone else controlling you? It’s awful.” He shakily gets out of the hammock and purses his lips down at the man. “Let me know if I can get you anything. Have a nice nap.” He goes into the other room.

Grimory grunts in response. “Some booze might be helpful,” he mutters after the scholar walks away.

“Kel? Where’s Ana?”

The mage looks up at him and frowns. “She yelled at me and left. You’re okay!” She stands to fuss over him and he slaps her away.

“You’ve never given a damn over my wellbeing in your life—”

“That’s not true!”

“—so why start now? Did you do something?”

She scoffs and goes back to the carpet, where Bel’theas is taking an impromptu nap. “What on Azeroth could I have possibly done, hmm? Can’t I just worry about you from time to time?”

“No. Do you know where Koltira is?”

“Outside somewhere,” she snaps, pointing him out the door.

Taveth stops at the open cabinet, grabs a random bottle, and returns to Grimory. “Here.” He sets it in the man’s hands, then shuffles out the door to retrieve his shirt from the bath room and go outside to find the others.

Grimory looks at the bottle, then groans and sits up to pop off the cork. He takes a drink and sighs. “Oi, dragon boy. If you can hear me, would you mind getting rid of this illusion? Kind of sick of it.” He takes a drink and catches his reflection in the broken mirror across the room. “It’s not me anymore.” The visage of his old self melts away, leaving the man he’s come to know sitting in its place.

Taveth rounds the corner and pauses, immediately looking away from the death knight. “I-I… Uh. Koltira—”

“Oh good, I didn’t kill you.” He stands, swaying the slightest bit. “Look, I’m sorry I—”

“No, no. You had every right. I have no idea what happened. Truly. Apparently you knocked it out of me, though. Heh. N-not attracted to Ana anymore.” He cringes at the awkward memories.

After a long, silent minute, Koltira steps forward and grabs Taveth as the elf flinches away, then sets his cold hand over his eye. “Then I’m sorry I hit you so hard.”

He twitches nervously. “Heh. Pretty sure your softest punch would still knock me out.”

Koltira looks at the man still sitting in the dirt. “You should go talk to Kel.”

Baemalen chuckles at the two and stands, brushing off his pants. “Right. She was pretty uppity last I talked with her a few minutes ago. Guess I can check.” He pats Taveth on the shoulder as he passes and wanders back inside to find the mage on the floor beside her child. “You more okay now?” he asks quietly.

The mage gives him a tired smile. “Just overwhelmed. Sorry. At least Tav is okay.” She looks at the door when no one else comes inside. “Get sick of them already?”

He returns the smile and sits with her. “Nah. I just don’t like seeing people in pain, y’know?”

A tall, blond figure steps in from the sleeping quarters and, bottle in hand, makes for the front door.

“Woah, wait! Who…?” Baemalen’s eyes widen when Grimory turns to look at him. “Hey, you got hunky. Is that what you normally look like?” he slurs.

The other’s eyes flick between the three of them and he nods before turning back for the door.

“Spooky,” Baemalen says as he turns back to Kel’ori.

Grimory makes his way around the back of the building, ignoring the other two men outside, and throws open the cellar door. He steps down, then stops when he sees two blue lights in the shadows. “Had a feeling you’d be down here.”

Alisbeth blinks up at him, then quickly slaps a shackle around her ankle. “I won’t leave again… Your horns are back.”

Grimory shakes his head and lowers to sit on the last step. “I don’t care that you left. Well—I do—but not that you escaped, yeah?” He drinks. “Where did you go?”

She fidgets with the chain. “I walked you back to the temple. Where you belong. Don’t you remember?”

Grimory winces at the pain as he tries to recall, then shakes his head. “I don’t. But…thank you. I’m sure I appreciated it.”

She nods eagerly. “Good. It worked. So you don’t remember me? From this time?”

Grimory shakes his head again. “No.” He groans as another pain pierces his head. “And it hurts to think about. Where did the other Ali go?”

Alisbeth shrugs. “She said something about fixing everything. Asked you some stuff.” She sniffs and suddenly starts crying. “Are you still mad at me? Everyone hates me. You hate me. I just wanted to be alive again. Why is that so wrong?”

Grimory shakes his head. “I don’t hate you. I’d do the same thing.” He sobers. “And I thought it was _you_ who hated _me_ …”

She turns her head away, her fingers plucking at the chain links. After a moment she sucks in a breath and holds it. “I don’t remember why. But if you want, I can keep hating you.”

Grimory gives a faint laugh. “I don’t remember, either.” He sighs and stands. “Guess we can move on then, yeah?” He offers her the bottle.

Alisbeth turns her head away from the bottle and pulls her knees up to her chin, the chain clinking in the dirt as she moves her ankle. “I’m not happy. And I’m still mad. You hurt me, Grim. I don’t remember what happened, but I will. I just need to think about it. I just need to remember why looking at you hurts so much.”

Grimory frowns and lets the bottle fall back to his side. “I’m not sure what I did, either. But I’m sorry. You know I’d never hurt you on purpose. “

“Then you hurt me on accident, I guess.” She looks up at him, studying his posture and the sudden wear on his face. “You look sad.”

Grimory inhales slowly, then sighs. “Yeah. I am. But it’ll pass.” He sits beside her. With a morphed claw, he rips the chain binding her from the wall. “I just want to get this all over with and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

Despite how she feels, Alisbeth curls into his side. “I miss Diori.”

Grimory nods slowly. “Me, too. And our bed.”

Alisbeth sighs into his warm side and closes her eyes. “Maybe if you apologize then we can be happy when we go back.”

He gives a hollow laugh. “I did technically apologize but I can’t say how sincere it is since I have no clue what I’m apologizing for.”

“I’ll let you know when I remember,” Alisbeth says.

Grimory nods. “Fair enough.”

~ * ~

“You think I’d look good with horns?” Baemalen asks Kel’ori.

The mage purses her lips. “Not if it requires you to share your body with a demon,” she says softly, turning her gaze away from him.

Baemalen’s smile fades the smallest bit. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Plus, those who can’t handle it just die anyway.” He laughs quietly but is clearly uncomfortable.

Kel’ori gasps, her gaze snapping to him. “That’s not better! Why would you want either of those options, Bae? Why do you want to go back?”

For once the smile leaves his face and he groans, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s what I’m here for, y’know?” He sobers and sits back on his hands. “And I don’t have anywhere else to go. Not that anyone else would take in such a huge fuckup.”

Kel’ori stops, her mouth agape. Then she slaps the back of her hand against his chest. “I asked you if you were going to come back with us! But you said you wanted to go back to die or go insane, apparently.” She slaps at him again. “Don’t be such a jackass!”

He flinches at both strikes, then rubs at the spot with a palm. A pout pulls at his lips. “Back with you? I thought you meant…back here. I don’t think I’m allowed back to your time.”

She pouts as well. “And why the hell wouldn’t you be?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Wouldn’t there be two of me then? Sounds like a big deal.”

Kel’ori frowns, her throat going dry. “I haven’t been around Grim very long, but, you say you’re best friends…” She clears her throat and shakes her head. “I never met you until we got here. Either you two have a falling out or…”

Baemalen’s eyes widen slightly and his brow furrows. “O- oh. I guess that’s what I get for running off on my own. Heh.” He sobers. “I guess I’ll take it up with Venny…maybe.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe.” She goes to say something else, but can’t find the words, and so stays quiet.

Baemalen studies her face when she looks away. He bites his lower lip and glances at the baby sleeping on the furs. “I…suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

She nods and shrugs as though playing off her own vested interest in the matter. “Yeah. Whatever you want. I’m sure it would make Bel happy.”

He blinks, then smirks devilishly. “Oh? Just Bel? You’re certain you don’t care what I do?”

“Do you care if I care or not?” Kel’ori asks with a prodding smirk.

“Yes,” he replies curtly and with an air of false arrogance. “Unlike some people I’m pretty honest with my feelings.”

She gives an exaggerated laugh. “And what exactly are your feelings?”

He smiles wide. “Well. I really like you and would hate for this to be the last we see of each other.”

Kel’ori smiles and bites her bottom lip. “I really like you, too. Why do you think I…really want you to come back with us?” She reaches over to carefully set her hand on his.

Baemalen’s smile widens and he turns his hand to wrap his fingers around hers. “Because Bel likes me?”

She smirks and squeezes his hand with hers. “No…but that helps. Why do you like me?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Fishing for compliments, are we? Well I’m happy to oblige.” He ticks his reasons off on his fingers. “You’re talented, beautiful, sassy, a great mother, a good cook…”

Kel’ori’s smile grows as he lists her qualities. “Is there something wrong with enjoying compliments? I bet you wouldn’t object if I told you that you’re charming, handsome, witty, sly,” she says that one with a nose-wrinkling grin, betraying her excitement over his crafty ways. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you work a poker table one day.” She pushes her shoulder against his and smiles sweetly. “But you’re not a ‘bad boy’ like all the rest. Not the kind that’s gotten me in trouble in the past, anyway.”

He flushes and scratches at his neck as he turns away. “Guess I can’t argue with that. My poker face _is_ on point.” He turns back to smirk at her. “And you were into bad boys, eh? No one’s said I can’t be one. Or that I’m not already one.”

“Oh, but I don’t like bad boys anymore. Like I said, they’re nothing but trouble. Liars. Cheaters. Always instigating fights. No, I just don’t see you being one of those. You actually have a heart.” She sighs happily as she holds his gaze with her own. “So, I ask again, will you come back with us? For me?”

His smile wanes slightly and he nods after a second. “Yeah. It’s ultimately up to Ven, but I’ll take it up with him.”

“I see no reason for him to say no,” she says. “Just charm him, like you did before. Of all the people in this world, I think he hates you the least.” Kel’ori smiles and tucks a red lock behind his ear. “It’s impossible to not like you. You’re too sweet.”

His smile grows more reserved and he chuckles. “If you say so.” He looks past her into the fire beneath the kettle. “I’ll bring it up tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” she says.

“You’re not fucking yet?” Koltira asks from the doorway.

Taveth, red nosed beside him, purses his lips awkwardly and sways his way through the room to the bedroom.

Baemalen jumps and turns to the doorway. He chuckles as though unfazed. “Not sure who this lovely lady named _Yet_ is, but perhaps you could acquaint us.”

Kel’ori’s lower eyelid rises. “I think the three of you need to go dry out.”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Or you can have a drink with us and quit being a bitch.”

Baemalen’s hand flies to his mouth in shock and he turns to look at the mage beside him. “I extend the same invitation. Only…more cordially?”

Kel’ori looks at the three of them, then at Bel’theas. “I’ll pass. You guys go have fun, though.” She sets her palm on Baemalen’s arm.

Baemalen shrugs and stands after flashing her a grin. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He grabs a cup and a pair of worn ivory dice from the cabinet as well as another bottle. “We’ll take it outside lest we get too rowdy.” He hooks his arm through Koltira’s. “You coming, Tav?”

“You don’t have to go outside. It’s hot out there. And if you wake Bel, you can just be the one who gets their hair pulled.” Kel’ori gives him a daring grin.

“He is. We could go into the basement,” Koltira suggests. “Now that we don’t have prisoners.”

“Or everyone can cuddle with the ice block,” Taveth says as Koltira yanks him under an arm.

Baemalen lifts the bottle slightly in agreeance. “Basement it is. You and the small terror get some rest.” He grabs Taveth’s other arm and pulls him outside with Koltira’s assistance. “What does the winner get?” he slurs as he kicks the cellar door open.

Kel’ori pouts as she watches the men leave.

Koltira thinks on it. “Bragging rights?”

“Losers buy the winner drinks?” Taveth suggests as the bottle sloshes into his field of vision.

Baemalen stops at the bottom of the stairs as he sees the four lights in the darkness. “Oh. Guess this spot is taken.”

Grimory looks up, still tired and leaning against Alisbeth. “No. We can go upstairs if you guys want to hang out in this dank cellar for some reason.”

“Not as hot as outside and no risk of waking the…child,” Koltira says.

Grimory helps Alisbeth to her feet. “C’mon. Sit next to me in my hammock, yeah?” He leads her back up the stairs.

“Great!” Baemalen throws himself into the dirt and throws the dice. “Sixes.”

“Coulda stayed,” Taveth complains. “Wait, what are we playing?”


End file.
